The Legend Of The Fabulous Killjoys
by NOOOOOOOO
Summary: An interpretation of what I've seen in My Chemical Romance's videos for Na Na Na and SING. It follows the story line of the videos, but give the characters some depth that I think they should have. Read this. Or don't, whichever. Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1: Part One: Na Na Na

**The Legend Of The Fabulous Killjoys**

A small interpretation of what I've seen in My Chemical Romance's videos for Na Na Na and SING. Read, enjoy, and, if the mood take you, review.

**Disclaimer: **I don't know the characters Party Poison, Kobra Kid, Jet Star or Fun Ghoul. The name Curly, however, completely made up. I don't know... Whatever.

* * *

"Poison!"

The fiery haired male looked up from his work on the engine of his car. Party Poison was his name. He'd long since forgotten his real one. Or, maybe it was there, locked away in the back of his mind and he just didn't wish to let it out again. As his head rose, he rolled his eyes. "What?" he asked attitude seeping from his tone.

"Ladyboy's here! He's got the stuff, we gotta go!"

Poison turned slowly, facing Fun Ghoul, running a dirty hand through his bright red hair. "Car's not done," he said. "Where's Curly?"

Ghoul looked around, guilty faced, and shrugged. "Dunno…" he murmured. He leaned on the threshold of the abandoned diner, picking at his nails.

Poison groaned. "Well, go find her. You know she can't be left alone. Let Jet figure out you left her again and he'll pound your face in."

"Fuck that," Fun Ghoul said, rolling _his _eyes this time. He spun on his heels, stepping through the door. The diner had been abandoned for almost ten years, ever since a couple of female outlaws had come by and poisoned the entire place. Where there were once tables and chairs set neatly, most were gone. The few that remained were covered in their things or stacked over and over again with weapons. Detonation, detonation, detonation.

Ghoul picked up a gun and held it nonchalantly in hand. He swung it on a finger and strolled through the diner, towards its kitchen. Kobra Kid and Jet Star were there, slowly preparing themselves while Ladyboy waited in the corner. He spun in delicate little circles on his roller skates, helmet always poised over his head.

Jet was pulling dusty skinny jeans up to his waist and a t-shirt over his wavy hair. He looked towards Ghoul. "Where's Curly?" he asked, slight urgency in his tone.

"Chill, I'm getting her."

Jet groaned. "When I say 'Don't let Curly out of your sight' that's exactly what the hell I mean, Ghoul!"

"Cool it, Jet! I'm going to get her!"

"She should be _with you!"_

Ghoul didn't reply, deciding to rather roll his eyes and slipped out the back door.

Kobra chuckled, combing his blonde hair back, his own little attempt to keep it looking above perfect. "Better watch your ass, Ghoul."

"Shut up…" The black haired male pushed through the back door and stood out in the blazing desert sun. "Curly!" he called. The desert was silent. The empty plain was broken with small, dying bushes turned tumbleweed and giant rocks here and there.

"Curly!" he called out again. Silence once again. He caught the shadow of something behind one of the large rocks. It teetered some and then sat still. Ghoul rolled his eyes. Who'd she think she was hiding from?

He stepped up to the rock quickly, wasting no time as he turned the corner to confront the girl. "Come on, kid, who do you thin-" He stopped mid sentence, confronted with a toy robot. The robot belonged to Curly and it glared up at him in the unnerving silence. The silence settled at the pit of his stomach like a landmine, waiting to be stepped on.

Ghoul stepped up to the twenty-four inch robot, the sun beating over him and kneeled in front of it. He touched the toy with the ball of his index finger. It faltered only some, as though taking a moment to decide if it was going to tip or not. "Where's Curly?" he asked.

The robot didn't answer.

"Shit…" Ghoul mumbled. Jet was going to _murder _him.

"Okay, okay…" he whispered to himself. "Curly is gone. I can probably deal. Kobra and Poison can probably deal. What are we gonna tell Jet?"

"Freeze, vampire!"

Ghoul almost jumped out his skin, spinning on his toes. He tipped over and landed flat on the toy. It poked into his back hard enough to make a grown man whimper, and he did.

The young girl stood over him; hands pressed together, index fingers pointing down at him. "Bow," the frizzy haired girl said. She lifted a finger to her lips and blew. "Target acquired."

She grabbed at the long, tight winds of hair, encircling her small face. "No vampire is a match for me," she said, big eyes wide, a silly smile playing at her lips.

Fun Ghoul wanted to scream, but he couldn't. She was just too cute. He grinned, his heart rate slowing. "Whoa, now. Don't do that, girl!" He stood to his feet and took a breath. "If you hada disappeared, I woulda been dead."

Ghoul ruffled the girl's hair and shoved her lightly. "Go ahead inside," he said.

She smiled and turned, skipping into the diner. Ghoul chuckled. Such a carefree kid to be in the situation she was in. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and lit it, following behind her. She had no idea…

* * *

They were all there now, preparing to leave. Poison was staring intently into the sink, washing oil from his face and hands. He wouldn't be getting into his beloved car with dirty hands and neither would the rest of these mother fuckers if he had anything to say about it. "Ladyboy, turn on the radio."

Ladyboy, sitting at a tall counter against the wall with Curly, still masked and forever silent, came to his feet and rolled gracefully across the kitchen floor. He caressed Kobra Kid's cheek and flicked on the old boom box beside him.

"Don't touch me," Kobra said, defensively.

"Yeah, only person allowed to touch Kobra _is _Kobra," Ghoul said, and Jet chuckled catching his underlying joke.

"Not like he'll ever get anyone else to do it," the other added.

"Shut up," Kobra said. He pulled his comb through his hair again and stepped away from the radio. It came on in loud static sounds and then evened itself out into the smooth voice of their very own Dr. Death Defying.

"_Look alive, sunshine…"_

Jet looked across the room and pointed. "Curly," he said. "Get the stuff ready. The blue one for me."

Curly nodded, trotting off towards the front of the diner.

"Be careful!" Jet called out, and the voice went on.

"_One-oh-nine in the sky, but the pigs won't quit! You're here with me, Dr. Death Defy. I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter!"_

Party Poison pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, just as dusty as the last pair, and his jacket. **Dead Pegasus **was stitched across the front pocket. He glanced at the others around him, a shake of his head. "Hurry up," he said. "You've got about a minute and a half before I leave you."

Curly shuffled back into the kitchen with a blue gun in her hands. She held it carefully, by the front.

"_Pumping out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive! A system failure for the masses, anti-matter for the master plan!"_

Fun Ghoul leaned against the wall, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'm ready," he said. "Jet and Curly are the weak links here."

Jet rolled his eyes, holding his hand out to Curly. "Gun, please," he said.

Curly sat the gun in his hands, big brown eyes wide and the silly smile of hers dancing on her lips. Jet set the gun in the holster attached to his side and pulled a jacket up over his shoulders. Dusty like everything else they owned, the back was decorated elegantly with an American flag.

"_Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny! This is for all you rock n' rollers! All you crash queens and motor babies! The future is bulletproof! The aftermath is secondary!"_

"Let's go!" Poison pressed.

The gang started for the door, Poison first, handing a record to Ladyboy. "Thanks," he said. "We'll meet you at the next checkpoint."

Ghoul followed behind him first, holstering his randomly chosen gun and inhaling on his cigarette once again. Kobra went soon after, pulling a glove onto his right hand and quickly grabbing a rolled up magazine.

Jet was last, followed by Curly, the last to get ready. An aviator's helmet pulled over her curls and her toy robot stuffed into the backpack on her back, she grabbed the radio and scuttled closely behind Jet.

"_It's time to do it now and do it loud!"_

Together, they all grouped into the car and Poison revved the engine. _"Killjoys, make some noise!"

* * *

_

Curly yawned. She liked the little jobs they gave her. She never got many. They thought she was too young do to do most things. She was in charge of gathering their things, the weapons, piling them into suit cases, putting them into the trunk of the car.

She was also in charge of the radio. This job was very important to her, just about her favorite thing to do. She felt pride in the fact that she could always find Dr. D's station when they went slightly out of range and it went a bit fuzzy. She loved that no matter what song she chose, the guys loved it. They'd sing and dance and they'd have a good time in that little car.

But the job was tedious… Carrying the small boom box in her lap for long car rides stifled her movement. It made her tired, not being able to move around and, like most nine year olds; she did not like to sleep. She would often find herself waking from a dream in the middle of their long car rides, angry at herself for being so childish.

Curly yawned again and rubbed her eyes. She looked to her left. Kobra sat there, passed out cold, despite the loud music blaring beside him. To her right sat Jet, staring idly out the window. The continuous dialogue that had started early in the car ride had died out now. Everyone went about doing their own thing. Curly stared at the magazine thrown across Kobra's lap, her curiosity taking the best of her. The girl took it in her thumb and finger, moving slowly as to not wake the male beside her. She looked at the cover, as if criticizing a literary piece. Written in red letters on the front cover was

**Murder **

and in small white text below it was the slogan:

Their bodies will kill you. 

Across the front was a woman on her side, half clothed. Her hair was long, blonde and waving past her shoulders. She wore a tight, white shirt that barely covered her large breasts. Something about it seemed appealingly foreign and terribly wrong to the young girl.

To flip open the cover was no better. Inside, there was no discretion, no attempts to hide anything. Kobra had been reading a nudie magazine and Curly did not approve.

Before she could completely comprehend what it was she was doing, Curly was climbing over Kobra and slipping the thing out the open window.

"Hey, Whoa!"

Curly jumped, falling quickly back into her seat at the sound of Kobra's loud voice.

"The fuck are you doing, kid!"

"I was just…"

"Why do you have to be so stupid!"

Without warning, just like the child she was, Curly began to cry. She cried quietly though. Only lone whimpers were audible. She turned away from Kobra and snuggled into Jet Star's arm.

"Don't call Curly stupid," Jet said, rolling his eyes, gaze never leaving the view out the window.

Kobra rolled his eyes in stubborn defiance and shook his head. "She threw my skin mag out the window!"

"Well, you shouldn't be reading them anyway!" Jet snapped. "She's nine and she obviously knows better than you!"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!"

"It means you don't got no common sense, Kobra!"

Curly looked ahead, wiping tears from her eyes to clear her vision. She was holding onto Jet Star's arm, squeezing it lightly. When others yelled, it was okay. But when Jet Star yelled, it was scary.

She watched as Poison's grip tightened on the steering wheel. He was getting angry, obvious in the dark look Curly caught in his eyes from the rear-view mirror. Ghoul was looking at him too, out the side of his eye. He stayed quiet, tying a bandana around his neck. He knew what was coming just as well as Curly did. They'd just wait for it to happen.

"You two shut up!" Poison roared, his voice full with authority and anger. "It's done! Okay? The magazine is long gone! It's over! Shut the fuck up!"

The car went quiet. The only sound, the rev of the engine and the muffled music coming from the radio, now on the floor.

"You shouldn't be reading those anyways," Ghoul said, breaking the silence. "You'll have erectile dysfunction before you're, like… thirty."

Curly didn't know what that meant, but she went on and giggled anyway, because Ghoul had.


	2. Chapter 2

Jet leaned against the trunk of the car, arms crossed over his chest. They'd be lucky if the little gas station had anything to give. He knew that, but didn't say anything. Poison was usually correct with hunches involving where and where not to get gas, where to eat, what was safe to eat…

The places he chose were never surveyed. They were never infested with Draculoids. There were only the posters. It was them, the Killjoys. One of each of their faces, all X'd off. Each read **EXTERMINATE. **

It was hard to see them, knowing they were of him, of his little make-shift family. It reminded him that no one believed them. No one anywhere.

His revere was broken when Kobra sat beside him. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Jet repeated.

"Don't stare at those posters. They'll drive you insane, you know?"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah…" Kobra grew silent, looking at his hands for a moment. Jet's glance followed to his gloved palm. That glove had the power to break a vampire's neck in three seconds flat. It was something Ghoul had created for him because Kobra like to "use his hands."

"Look," Kobra said after a moment or two. "I'm sorry about yelling at Curly. It was stupid. I didn't mean it."

Jet chuckled, pushing himself up from the trunk. "Don't apologize to me," he said. "Apologize to her."

Kobra watched as Jet walked off and rolled his eyes. All the Killjoys seemed to be very good at that.

He found himself glancing at Curly, sitting on the ground, propped up against a gas tank. She sat with a notebook in her lap, scribbling quickly into it.

Kobra sighed, feeling foolish, and started to walk towards her. It was stupid, he thought, apologizing to someone who was less than half his age. Like apologizing to a baby that wouldn't understand a word you say. He stood beside her, staring down at her hands that moved ever so quickly across the page. "Hey kid," he said.

Curly looked up at him and blinked. "Hi," she said, a slight look of confusion on her face.

What the hell do you tell a kid when you're trying to patch things up? "Uh…" He looked around for a moment and sighed. Then, he caught it. The Better Livings Industries Battery City Vending Machines. "Come help me hack the vending machine."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked off, whistling. He wasn't sure if Curly had even decided to follow until he reached Fun Ghoul, smoking another cigarette, and she popped up at his side.

Ghoul looked at them, blowing a trail of smoke and smirking. "How may I help you?" he asked.

"Let's have the Vend-a-Hack, please? Me and Curly are gonna get some batteries for the radio. Maybe a couple of guns."

"But of course," Ghoul replied, heading towards the car. He stopped at the trunk and pulled a bobby-pin from the back of his hair and jammed it into the trunk's lock.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Poison asked, at the gas pump. He didn't raise his voice, but he didn't sound pleased. Then again, Party Poison never sounded pleased.

"Opening the trunk," Ghoul said, matter of factly.

"Use the fucking keys," Poison growled harshly, pulling them from his pocket.

"Too late," Ghoul said, as the trunk flew open. He flashed a smile at Poison and pulled out a small square object. It looked liked it was modeled off an old hand held video game system, aside from the long, flat wire that hung from the from.

"If you ruin my trunk, I _will_ kill you, Ghoul. Killjoy or not. You _will _be dead.

"Picking a lock ain't never hurt nothing," Fun Ghoul said, handing the object to Kobra.

"While you're in there, get a couple of guns. And the bazooka. I think we're about to get some company."

Kobra pat Curly's head, "Come on, kid," and started for the vending machine. He flipped a nearby trash can over and instructed her to sit on top of it. He handed her the Vend-a-Hack. "Okay, put the little micro chip where the money would go," he explained.

Curly did as she was told and then stared down at the object, covered in buttons. Kobra chuckled at the confused look that crossed her face. "Listen closely, kid. Press the buttons I tell you to press, in the order I say press them in."

Curly nodded, looking up at Kobra with a smile. "Got it," she said.

"Alright. K8. T4. A9. A3. T5. M8. A5. A5. A5. B3."

She pressed the buttons with rapid speed, not moments after they were mentioned, eyes glued to the buttons.

"T4. R8. J2. Q3. J2. Q3."

"Got it."

"Now, press the top button on the vending machine."

Curly took her hand and pushed the large, white button beside the money slot. It was marked with **AA **and a small slot was stationed below it to catch what came out. Obvious, what tumbled into the small slot was two small Double A batteries. She pressed the button below it and a larger D battery fell into the slot. Finally, Kobra hit the one at the bottom with a fist and a plain, white gun fell out. He picked it up and grinned.

"Awesome, kid. You're a diamond." Kobra lifted his hand for a high-five and Curly complied, a wide grin growing on her face.

"Kobra! Curly! Let's go!" Poison called. Curly hopped down from her seat, grabbed the batteries and hurried off.

Kobra Kid started off after her, sliding the gun into an empty holster on his leg. He felt proud, and pretty annoyed. But, he was mostly proud. "That kid…" he mumbled, shaking his head.

* * *

Party Poison looked into his side mirror. "Here comes the fun," he said.

"Righteous," Ghouls said, pulling his bandana over his mouth and standing up in his chair. He pulled a gun from the holster attached to his leg and stuck his head out the open top of the car.

Poison glanced out the window. The sleek, black car was gaining on them quickly. One of their windows rolled down slowly, and a gun pointed out at them. A laser fired and took off half of Poison's side mirror.

"Oh, fuck that!" Poison called, picking up a gun beside him.

Kobra, sitting in the front seat, looked back at Jet. "It's a battle?" He asked.

Jet grinned. "It's a battle."

Kobra leaned out his window and pointed a gun at the car and Jet stood up with Ghoul and they were all shooting.

Curly sat up, propping on her knees, staring out the back window. That right there, that's what she wanted to do. She wanted to be out with them, destroying vampires. She wanted to be and honest-to-God Killjoy and take down every single one of those mother fuckers one by one. That was something she was willing to wait for. Being as amazing as Poison or Ghoul or Kobra or Jet took some time, didn't it?

"Yo, Curly!" Ghoul said, ducking down, grabbing the large bazooka at their feet. "Wanna kill a Drac?"

Curly's face lit up and a huge smile grew on her face. "Hell yeah!" she called out, standing up with Ghoul. Her head reached only past the top car, so she had to sit on the back of Kobra's seat to reach Ghoul's height.

Fun Ghoul had the gun set up, holding it upright, facing the car at hand. This was dangerous, being out in the open so casually. But the vampires were damn bad shots.

A vampire had his head handing out the window. They all looked the same, for an obvious reason. They all wore masks. Very played up and completely unrealistic, each rubber mask has a snarling cartoon vampire printed across the front, holes for eyes and scraggly, fake, nappy black hair on their heads. They frightened Curly. She hated them.

"I got it in aim. Just take the trigger and pull."

"Curly shook slightly. She was nervous, but she wasn't going to let anything stop her from taking advantage of such a moment. She took the bazooka in both hands, gazed through the small telescope used to aim, and fired.

The missal inside rushed out, forcing her back. Ghoul caught her and kept her from falling. She was over taken by something like joy and a little like fear, as she watched the missal take off half the vampire's body. She could not stop giggling.

"Hey!" Jet called. "Get her back in the car!"

Curly ducked back in, unable to suppress the smile on her face. She looked out the back window, watching the black car slow and turn away. That was enough for them. Having half their partner's body ripped off at the hips. Why didn't they use the bazooka more often?

* * *

Detonation, detonation, detonation. Poison never slowed. The car continued to hurtle down the highway, his grip tight on the wheel. Between his ruined mirror and whatever it was Ghoul just pulled, his anger was boiling over.

"What the hell was that, Ghoul?"

Fun Ghoul blinked. "Me?" he asked, getting comfortable in his seat.

"Yeah, you, _Fun Ghoul. _What the fuck are you doing, wasting an entire missal on one vampire? We could have taken the whole car out, damn it!"

"Geez, chill out. I was just giving Curly a little fun!"

"Do you know how difficult it is to find detonation, Ghoul? A damn long time!"

Ghoul sighed. "Come on, Poison, what's a couple more vampires? We can take 'em down!"

"You're missing the point!"

"Or maybe you're aiming your stupid point in the wrong direction."

You could almost hear the other two's annoyance floating through the air as the two argued. Their back and forth was getting them nowhere…

"I'm sorry," Curly said. "Don't yell at Ghoul."

It suddenly hit Poison how quiet it was. Curly turned the music off. There was only the quiet hum of the engine. Poison turned and looked at Curly for a moment, gripping to Jet like he was her father. He had a soft spot for the kid. They all did. She was important to the Killjoys, whether or not she could do much. She was the one who believed them. The one that know they were _the good guys. _His eyes floated back to the road, the setting sin taking the heat along with it. He sighed.

'It's not you, kid,' he wanted to say. 'It's all Ghoul. He's to blame here, so don't apologize. But I won't yell anymore, okay?' He'd worked all that out in his head. That's what he wanted to say. But it's not what he did say…

"Whatever," is what he _did _say.

Curly sighed and lay her head down on Jet Star's shoulder. She'd be asleep in a while. She always fell asleep.

* * *

Ghoul groaned, Why couldn't everyone take a chill pill and give him a break? He made the kid happy! Wasn't that good enough? Now, everyone was on edge because of Poison.

He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and took a single one out. He lit it, keeping it facing towards the window. He would smoke regardless, he just felt it appropriate to smoke away from others who didn't enjoy what he did.

It calmed him, smoking did. That's why it was such an addiction. If he was angry, he's feel calm again. If he was nervous, he wouldn't feel care free again without one. He was addicted and he he'd come to terms with that. He used to want to believe it was something he did for fun. He'd be lying if he said that though.

When he took that first drag, everything went away. He felt unbelievable dizzy, those first few drags, but peaceful. Problems were gone in his little spinning wonderland… He liked that feeling.

Having a bit of smoke cloud his brain of all the bullshit and put him at ease. He loved it and he hated it all at the same time.

He took his first drag and sighed. It was gonna be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

I've been MIA for a while. My apologies. Quite a shame, because I've got this entire story finished already. My computer got a virus, though, so it's harder for me to find times to update. Lucky me, I saved this story on a flash drive! (Insert "woohoo!") Anyways, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit but flowering ideas and the ability to sprinkle everything in swear words.

* * *

"This ain't safe, Poison," Jet mumbled. "I can just feel it."

Party Poison cut off the engine and hopped out the car. "We'll see…" he muttered in reply.

An old abandoned motel didn't call for anything but trouble to Jet Star. Surveillance or not. He looked at Curly, asleep at his side. He wasn't risking this little girl. He'd put in too much work saving her.

Kobra climbed out after Poison. "I'll help him survey the place," he said.

The Dracs had surveillance almost everywhere. No rock or mound of dirt was certified safe. They'd even had a run in with the lead exterminator once before. It did not end pretty... But, that's a different story.

"Come on," said Ghoul. "It's not safe sleeping in the car either. Bugs and all that shit, ya know? They get pretty big out in the zones, Jet."

Jet shook his head. "Took me long enough to guarantee her safety. I'm not gonna have her lost to _them."_

"Don't you think you need some sleep too? Tell you what, we'll keep watch. We'll take turned. Me, then you. Even though Kobra's on watch tonight, we'll have a little more protention for Curly."

Jet looked at Ghoul like he was going a bit mental. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ghoul grinned and beat him to it. "Don't you think the kid would like to sleep in an actual bed for once?"

Jet groaned quietly. It was true. They always dragged Curly into uncomfortable situations where she'd have to sleep on the ground or sitting up. "Fine," he said. He lightly shook Curls and she stirred.

She slowly opened her brown orbs, looking confused and a little upset. "What…?" she asked, staring up at Jet.

He frowned. It was so obvious in her eyes, the world she once knew, destroyed by everything she'd been though. He couldn't figure out how she did it. Staying so care free had to be a full time job for her.

"Come on, we're gonna have a camp-out." He said.

She yawned. "Outside..?"

"No… We'll be inside… In a bed."

She closed her eyes again. "Okay."

Jet helped the tired little girl onto his back and got out the car.

"Good job," Ghoul said with a smirk, lighting another cigarette.

"You shouldn't smoke those things," Jet said. "They'll kill you."

* * *

No sheets. No pillows. No blankets. Just an old, musty mattress and bed set. It couldn't be comfortable. It _wasn't_ comfortable. It was a helluva lot better than sleeping on the ground though.

Ghoul hung by the window, staring into the black desert beyond him. There was nothing to see and nothing to hear but the light staggered snoring of the two on the bed.

Jet and Curly were something else. Two completely different spirits entirely. They'd never even met before about a year ago, but now they were bound together for eternity. Ghoul had never seen a bigger change of heart than what he had seen in Jet Star for Curly.

He inhaled on his cigarette, listening to the quiet, crinkling sound it made as it burned in on itself. He hated the quiet, but he hated being alone more. As long as those two were in the bed, exactly where he'd left them, he would be fine. Then, he's wake Jet in a few hours and get to escape himself…

* * *

It was at least 4am when Fun Ghoul shook Jet Star awake. He was still terribly tired, but honestly this wasn't about him. He sat up drowsily, rubbing his face roughly.

"Get up," Ghouls said. "Your turn."

Jet stood without speaking, moving slowly towards the window. He leaned his head against it slowly, feeling the cool glass on his cheek.

Ghoul spread himself across the room on the bed that hadn't been previously filled by Curly and yawned loudly, obnoxiously. "Sweet dreams," he said, rolling over.

Jet could have told him to shut up, but it would have taken more energy than he had at the moment. He blinked in secession, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open.

He would though. For Curly's sake, he would. Her safety meant the world to him, and he'd secure it. Even if it meant no sleep. As he looked out into the blackness outside, it felt just as though his eyes were closed. No wonder he never noticed himself falling asleep…

* * *

Mama, we all go to hell.

It's not nice to start a letter like that, but it's true, you know? There is no justice in this life, so why would there be justice in the one after this? It's not fair, but it's terribly true and it hurts my feelings.

I miss you mom. One day I hope I can see you again, but until then, my letters will have to do. I wish I could get one from you, but it's not possible, I know... They're always watching us, but the Killjoys keep me safe. I promise. They're like the big brothers I never had.

Don't forget me, please…

Now and forever,

Love,

Bailey

* * *

His eyes cracked back open when it was barely sunrise. The dusky feel of the early morning left him still feeling drowsy as he pulled his sweating face from the glass window. "Shit…" he murmured. He had _not _meant to fall back asleep.

Jet turned toward the bed, where Fun Ghoul lay, spread across like a sleeping bear and… Curly wasn't there…

He shot from the wall, rushed towards the bed and shook Ghoul violently. He even slapped him lightly to wake him up. Ghoul came to with a start, a quiet yelp erupting from a dream on one else knew anything about. "What?" he asked, shoving Jet away from him. "Why are you shaking me?"

"Where's Curly?" Jet asked, urgently, grabbing at his shoulders.

Ghoul looked around him as though he would see something Jet wouldn't with his half sleeping eyes. "I don't know… You were supposed to be keeping watch…"

"Damn it," Jet yelled, heading towards the door. He swung it open with force, uninterested in its stability and stepped into the slowly warming plane. "Curly!"

* * *

"Can you spell check this for me?" Curly reached over the seat of the car and waved her notebook at Poison, sitting shirtless at the side of the car. He couldn't do this the rest of the day. The sun would burn his skin to a crisp. But in the rising dawn, the warm breezes were allowed to touch his bare skin. He liked it. He could have smiled, but he was afraid he hadn't done it in so song that he may have forgotten how.

He looked at her. "What?" he asked, watching as she hung over the edge of the door. He rolled his eyes.

"Please?" Curly smiled at him, a hopeful look in her eyes.

Poison took the notebook from her hands and skimmed over it. He sighed. He despised reading this child's letters to her mother. She had such great grammer, and her spelling was fantastic, but the words she would weave... So brooding, so depressing. They revealed the cracks in the happy girl's personality. And there were so many.

_Mama, we all go to hell…_

Even her? Was no one safe from the fiery eternity in the pits of Hades? Was everyone destined to suffer for all time?

Maybe there was something else. Everyone couldn't be destined for that. There had to be something for the others. The good ones? Some sort of purgatory? Anything for the good…

He shook his head in adversity, trying to shake the thought from his mind. He knew he'd rather go to hell than be in purgatory.

_No justice…_

He had to stop then. He held the notebook out in front of him and sighed. "It's fine," he said, going back to his work. "We'll mail it when we get on the road again.

Curly's silly grin dances across her face and then quickly disappeared. She took it in her hands and lay down in the back seat.

Poison stared at the side mirror. There wasn't much he could do with it until they got to their next checkpoint. So, he'd taken the huge roll of industrial tape from the trunk and taped it around and around and around until it could stand on its own for a while. It was ugly, but it would have to do.

_No justice in this world…_

_Why would there be in the next?_

Poison fumbled with the tape and dropped it in the dirt. "Shit," he murmured. Every letter of hers he'd ever proofread stayed with him for a horribly long time. They absolutely broke his heart. But how could he ever show that? He was Party Poison! He was the strong one. He kept everything running smooth. He couldn't be heartbroken…

"Curly!"

Poison spun towards the voice, Jet standing confused, on the small slab of concrete in front of his motel room door.

Poison groaned and pointed inside the car as Curly popped her head above the door. "What an idiot…

* * *

Curly hopped out of the car and started for Jet, who was already heading towards her in long strides. He was slightly glassy eyes and his feet were rushing quicker than his body was allowing. He took hold of Curly and pulled her towards him. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, hugging her tightly.

Curly looked up at him and frowned a little. "I was with Poison…"

Something about being with Jet made Curly feel complete. She didn't understand the feeling fully… She just knew she enjoyed his company. She felt safe around him. He was _her _savior. The reason that she was still alive. She owed him everything. But she was still too young to realize that.

"I almost had a heart attack, kid! Don't disappear like that."

"Great, she's back!" Ghoul called out the door. "I'm goin' back to bed."

Poison stormed by, shaking his head. "Don't get to comfortable," he said. "We're leavin' in fifteen minutes!"

Louder than God's revolver, Ghoul called out, "Fuck!"

And quick as a flash, Poison started to knock roughly at a door. "Kobra! Stop jacking off and get out here! It's time to go!"

"Go to hell!" Kobra replied.

* * *

Jet sighed. Had these assholes never heard of a sentimental moment? He patted Curly's head and turned around. "Just… Make sure you tell me if you go somewhere."

His heart welled up a little as he walked off. Why'd he to overreact like that all the time with her?

He stepped through the threshold and kicked the bed as he walked by. "Up and at 'em, Ghoul."

Ghoul groaned loudly and kicked into the air. "Fuck!"

"Hopefully this water works…" Jet murmured.

"Hopefully it's clean," Ghoul added, sitting up, running his hands through his hair.

Jet stepped into the bathroom and turned on the sink. It sputtered, troubled with not having been turned on in such a long time. It was visibly struggling, vibrating against the wall as it tried to find the water long since gone until finally, a very small stream of crisp, clean water began to fall. Jet shrugged. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

He pulled a small white cloth from his pocket and wet it. "Curly," he called. She appeared at the door within moments, visibly trying to keep a smile on her face. "Wash up," he said, handing her the cloth and walked from the bathroom.

Ghoul had taken to lying lazily across the bed again.

"Up and at 'em," Jet repeated.

"Atom Ant," Ghoul said, sitting up again. "It's too early for this shit! I feel like I didn't sleep at all!"

"Stop complaining. Do we ever stay anywhere for long?"

"Well, maybe we should." Ghoul crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, maybe we can't." Jet stepped towards the door against, watching Kobra step into the sun, struggling with his jacket.

"Well, don't yell out to everyone that I'm jacking off, you asshole!"

"Would you be getting half this defensive if it was a lie, Kobra? Go get the food!"

"Whatever," Kobra muttered, pulling his arm through his sleeve finally. A pair of keys went flying towards him and he caught them without the slightest warning that they were coming his way.

"Not Power Pup…" Curly mumbled. She was in the room again, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, pulling her vest over her shoulders.

"Sadly," Jet said, picking his own jacket from the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed at the same time Ghoul stood and walked off.

"I hate that stuff!" the girl complained.

"Ditto," Ghoul said, strolling into the little bathroom.

"It's all we got, kid. Sorry."

"Yo, Jet!" Kobra called from the door. He tossed three cans and a can opener onto the bed and walked off. Jet sighed and lifted a can.

They were plain white with black writing, like everything else that came from Better Livings Industries. The ridiculous smiling face plastered across the front looked up at him, menacingly. It was like to was saying to him, "You're aiding the enemy with every bite!"

That was what the slogan ought to be. Not what it was: "Have a **BETTER** Day!"

His was much _better_.

Jet opened the can slowly, with deliberate turned. The stuff was dreadful and smelled twice as bad. He's gotten use to it, though. So had Poison and Kobra. Ghoul was making it there and Curly would just have to suck it up.

He handed her the first can and then opened his own, leaving the last can for Ghoul to open himself.

Curly stared into the can in disgust. She held it in her hands, but didn't begin to eat.

"You're gonna have to eat it eventually," Jet pressed. "The sooner the better. You know how it gets when it's been out."

Kobra walked in, followed quickly by Poison, but carrying their own cans. They both opened them and eventually, so did Ghouls, although a bit more hesitant. Everyone was eating then, quickly as though to get it over with. Everyone except Curly.

This worried Jet greatly. But he couldn't force her. She'd eat eventually. She always did.

* * *

She wasn't going to eat it. Why couldn't she have a turkey sandwich or something? This food was the epitome of disgusting and she couldn't put it in her mouth without gagging. As she watched the others scarf it down like hungry dogs, she couldn't understand how they did it! Maybe it was a boy thing… But… wasn't she just one of the boys?

Her thoughts drifted from the food onto other things: Her place in the Killjoys. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to be one.

Killjoy meant outlaw. Killjoy meant savior. Killjoy meant guardian angel. Killjoy meant _freedom._

Most importantly, Killjoy meant family. She needed one of those very badly… She tried not to think of such things, but they often snuck into her mind and stayed a while. Usually on the nights when she'd be the last one awake, although everyone else thought she was sleeping, even whoever was keeping watch.

Then, she'd ponder it all through the night and get angry with herself the next day for being so childish and not being able to keep her eyes open. When she couldn't stay awake in the mornings, that worried Jet. She hated to worry Jet.

Poison stood, suddenly. "Let's get going," he announced.

Everyone seemed to be finishing at the same time. Even Ghoul, who'd been eating at a slow and steady rate, was now taking his last bites and standing to his feet.

Curly climbed from the middle of the bed and sat her can on the dirty carpet.

"So, you're not gonna eat?" Jet asked, shaking his head.

"No," Curly answered, following Ghoul out the door.

* * *

_"Listen up all you tech heads and microchips! Keep a close eye on those transmitters. I hear they're real easy to hack."_

"Hear that Ghoul?" Poison asked. "Next stop for gas, you fix all that."

"Aye aye, Captain," Ghoul said. He saluted and laid his head back on his seat. He only hoped that the transmitters weren't hacked until they could stop. He yawned, and looked out at the desert. He missed the city. He was going out on a limb here, asking Poison this, but he went along and did it anyways. "When are we going back to Battery City?"

Poison took a moment to answer, building up on a nerve. Ghoul was close to a point of regret. He knew how Poison felt about Battery City. The city that had turned their backs on them. The city that made them the bad guys. Ghoul couldn't help himself, though. He still loved it.

Poison went on now saying anything and Ghoul's stomach sank. Was he too angry for words now? That was probably good and bad, Poison with his mouth closed for a while. But this was nerve racking.

When Poison spoke again, Fun Ghoul took a breath he's only half realized he was holding in.

"Whenever Dr. Death gives us the OK," he said, pressing his foot down on the gas.

Curly messed with the dial on the radio, fixing its fuzzy signal with precise little turns. He small hands worked quickly, whatever they did. _She'd be good with a wrench, _Ghoul thought. Maybe he'd ask her to help out with one of the transmitters…

He dismissed the thought when she stopped fiddling with the radio and took an envelope from her satchel at her feet. Written across the front in big red bubble letters was the word **MOM.**

It was decorated in crayons and markers with blue flowers, pink hearts, and yellow stars. The envelope made a knot out of his insides and put a lump in his throat. She wasn't going to help him today. She was barely going to smile.

His heart felt heavy now… He needed a cigarette.


	4. Chapter 4

Shorter chapter. Blah blah blah. Filling up space. Undeserved word count. Weeeeeee.

Oh, wait! I do have something important to say! I didn't named the kid "Grace." I didn't want to use her real name, or anyone's for that matter. So, none of the Killjoys are named after the band members either. That's it.

**Disclaimer:** Hi. Don't know. More words. Yay!

* * *

With a huff, Kobra smashed his shoulder into the wooden door frame. The old wood cracked under the pressure and he stepped inside. The old Gas Station shop was dark, dank and musty. Light broke through boarded up windows and little flecks of dust danced in their rays.

He rubbed his shoulder and the grinned, inviting himself into the desolation. He couldn't help his widening smile at the first thing that caught his eye: Old nudie magazines, across the way. They were slightly blocked off by racks of old stale chips, turned to old stale dust and long since flat liters of soda.

Kobra removed his comb from his back pocket and combed back his hair as though he was trying to keep it in peak shape for the women he'd find on the pages. He moved fluidly across the store and stopped in front of the magazine rack against the wall. He lifted one slowly with his index fingers and thumbs and cleared away the dust and cobwebs that had grown over time.

Kobra hissed in a breath, staring down at the brunet bombshell on the front cover. A sultry smile, bright eyes, and a nice rack. That was his kind of woman. Yes, Ms. November 2010 would do him just fine.

Hopefully Curly wouldn't throw the damn thing out the window this time…

Strolling back into the light outside, he rolled up the magazine and sat it in his spot in the car.

Ghoul leaned over the front of the car with a screwdriver, fooling with a machine that Kobra was unfamiliar with. Poison was finishing up at the gas pump and Jet was standing a few feet away from the car, watching Curly. She'd gone over to a mailbox. Once blue, like all standard American post boxes, it was now pink and yellow and blue and gold and so many other beautiful colors. It was nice to look at, but it's purpose was enough to make a grown man weep if he had the right reasons.

"She mailing it?" Kobra asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yup," Jet answered anyways. They both went quiet. There was nothing more to say.

* * *

Curly sighed. It was becoming ever so much more difficult for her to give up her letters to her mother. She stared down at the mailbox, decorated by other zone runners. Across the front it said _Love. _And arching below it like a rainbow were the words _Forgiven. _All other zone runners passed by where they had been eventually. It was a never ending cycle. One she still strived to be a part of. When they got info from Dr. D, they followed his instructions.

But, before she could continue to worry about that, she had to get past this. Every letter sent was like another piece of her mother being ripped away from her. She needed to do it, though. She knew she did, even at such a young age. She had it figured out.

The rest had done it. They'd all gotten past their ghosts and went on their way to being Killjoys. She had to do it too…

Ever kiss, every hug, every smile was forever going to haunt her… But she had to.

Curly opened the slot and dropped in her letter. At that same moment, her happy sun fell from the sky and shattered on the ground into a million dulling, yellow pieces. She didn't realize that she was on her knees until she heard the clink of the whistles around her neck.

She tried to hold back the anguished sobs, but her body wouldn't allow it. The sound tore from her throat and broke into the emptiness that surround it her. She felt like she was alone for such a very long time, kneeled there in the dirt. But she knew that wasn't true. There was no way Jet hadn't been here within seconds.

When the big arms wrapped around her little shoulders, she knew he was right there without her ever asking.

"I can't do this…" she whispered. Such an adult phrase, from a child of nine. "I can't do this…"

A muted _shhh_ and a hand through her hair. Jet spoke. "It's not easy to say goodbye, I know. But you don't have to do it alone. You've got us. You've got me."

Tears clouded her vision, she couldn't even see the hands in front of her face. She felt aimlessly for Jet, spinning around to hug him tightly. She wrapped her skinny arms around him and squeezed as tightly as she could. "I- just- miss- her- so- much," she sniffled, sentence lost in the sobs.

"Yeah," Jet whispered. He never stopped comforting her. He never stopped caressing her hair.

* * *

Ghoul took a drag.

Poison sat on the hood of the car.

Kobra leaned against the side, peaking over his magazine every now and then. He wasn't really reading it at the moment. No one was doing anything they pretended to be doing.

"It happens," Poison said, breaking the silence. "People die. Then babies are born and it starts all over again."

Ghoul looked at him, the webs of smoke circling his face and head. "But not like that…" he said.

"Not like what?" Kobra asked. "How's one death any different from another?"

"It's a vicious cycle…" Poison mumbled.

"Her body was ripped apart by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W exterminators!" Ghoul said, harshly. "I think that's a little different than dying of natural causes."

"What's the point..?" Poison continued, being ignored entirely.

"Everyone dies, Ghoul! Doesn't matter how it happens. When you're dead, you're dead!" Kobra had put his magazine back in the car, ready to argue.

"So, what you're telling me is that you'd rather be pulled apart by vampires than die in your sleep!"

"Life…" Poison whispered.

"What the _fuck_ does it matter!" Kobra yelled. "I'll be dead!"

"… is but a dream for the dead."

"I'd never choose that over a quiet death!" Ghoul exclaimed.

"You'll be dead!" Kobra countered.

"And down we go…" Poison stood, walking in a small circle. "And down we go…"

"Fuck you, Kobra!" Ghoul spat.

"Go to hell, Ghoul!"

"Mama, we all go to hell…" Poison opened the driver side door and sat inside, without another word.

"Right after you, Sir-Wanks-Alot!"

"Grow up!"

"Grow a _pair!_"

"_Fangool, _Ghoul!"

Party Poison snapped. They were used to this. But not quite like he snapped this time. "Both of you, shut the fuck up and get in this God Damn car right now or I swear to God I'll take a gun to both of your mother fucking heads!"

The other two went silent. Neither of them moved, but they didn't speak again. Poison didn't play with death like that. Not when he was _that_ angry... Poison raised the gun at his side and pointed it towards Ghoul. "In. The Car," he said.

Ghoul blinked and then did what he was told, like a younger sibling submissive to her older brother.

The gun pointed Kobra's way next. "Car." Kobra didn't move.

"Don't test me, Kobra. It doesn't matter how you die. You'll be dead. Even by a laser to the head."

Kobra scowled and followed directions.

"Now shut your mouths. We're gonna give those two as long as they need and we're gonna sit here quietly while we do it. As much as I hate playing den mother to you ladies, you're just gonna have to do what the fuck I say."

No one said a thing after that. Not even when Jet and Curly returned and sat in the back seat. All was silent, and that's exactly how Poison wanted it.

* * *

He hated it. This one time, he hated the stretching silence that left him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to think of something, anything else besides Curly. He choked his own tears back. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry…

Jet glanced to his side. Ghoul was taking a shaking hand to his lips, covering a lighter from the harsh winds. Curly was looking at the floor, holding her toy robot, lazily. She was visibly tired of crying, rolling her eyes at herself as she wiped her tears away every now and then. She couldn't seem to stop it though… As far as Jet knew.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the tears from flowing freely, but he wouldn't let that happen. If he cried, who'd be there for Curly to cry on?


	5. Chapter 5

I didn't get any reviews last chapter. But that's not the reason I haven't updated! I still don't have a computer. So, although you guys don't love me, I'll continue to update. Teehee.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Apparently, I don't even own a computer right now.

* * *

He walked the halls menacingly. He wasn't often out, so when others saw him, they faltered. The women gasped, the men stared down at their desks. He loved it. Fear… The fear of other, fueled by him, fueling him to keep going. And only when he wanted it to.

The power he felt when he struck a woman across the face, when he sentenced an unproductive exterminator to death… The look of fear that would cross their faces! He would have grinned if he wasn't so infuriated.

The other two walked behind him, only steps between them. Always in a V-Formation.

The man glared at the endless posters along the wall. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate. Killjoys. He took one in his first and tore it from the wall. His gait never slowed until the vampire behind him stumbled and caught the back of his heel.

He turned around with a force and grabbed the other by the collar. With a powerful swing, he slammed him against the wall. "Why the _fuck_ are they still alive!" he yelled, waving the paper in the air.

The masked vampire tried to speak, but he got no chance. The man smashed the poster into his face. "You lost an exterminator! You could have lost the car!" he exclaimed. "You're dead, you hear me! Dead!"

Suddenly, the look of anger and annoyance melted away. He grinned. "Unless…" he murmured, a plan formulating in his terrible, terrible mind. He let the man go, walking slowly down the hall. "Yes… We'll let them have their way… For now. For today…" He turned to face the others. "Let's call it a game. A bit of 'Cat and Mouse.' Why not? BLI's success is guaranteed regardless. Tomorrow, that's when it'll all begin."

He laughed softly. "Cat and mouse…"

* * *

Curly sighed. Why was she still crying? She was getting more and more annoyed with herself at every tear. She pulled her helmet down on her head and fiddled with the straps. She was tired of thinking. She wished all the thoughts would just fade away and she could smile again.

The radio went up in static, tuning in, and then Dr. Death Defy was on the air again. _"Killjoys, this goes out to you…"_

The beach Boys flooding through the system and filled the car with melodies of decades before.

_Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? / And we wouldn't have to wait so long. / And wouldn't it be nice to live together / In the kind of world where we belong?_

Poison immediately took off the road, driving into the vast desert. He drove along the dirt for length of the song, the only thing that was heard.

Curly always liked that song. It sometimes excited her when it came on because she knew it meant hiding out. Or ever better, a fight. She always rooted for the fight.

_You know It's gonna make it that much better / When we could say goodnight and stay together._

When Poison finally stopped, he cut off the engine and turned at an angle that made it possible for everyone to see his face. "I'll go and survey the area. Stay here."

Curly liked this part: When surveying alone, Poison always went in disguise. His disguise was the funniest thing Curly had ever seen him have.

It was a huge, smiling blue mouse head, a wire pipe handing from its mouth. She's touched it once. It felt as though it had been fuzzy once upon a time, but lost its touch somewhere along the way.

Poison looked as though he was going to kill her the day she touched it. She hadn't ever touched it since.

She couldn't help but giggle watching him walk off past the barbed wire fence, wearing the large thing over his head.

It brought on a spur of reactions, beginning with Ghoul. He looked at her in surprise and immediately fell into a conversation that he'd been holding in for some time. "So, Curly, how would you rather die?"

"Ghoul!" Jet shouted.

"What?" Ghoul asked, waving his cigarette back and forth. "It was just a question!"

Jet reached his hand around and smacked him across the back of the head. "Idiot!"

Curly picked up her toy robot and hugged it. She smiled softly. She was used to this, their banter and family type attitude. She liked this much better than the stony silence that had gone on for hours previously.

"You're damn stupid, Ghoul," Kobra said, flipping through his magazine.

"Totally," Ghoul mumbled. "_I'm _the stupid one…"

"Yes," Kobra replied.

"Don't ask stupid questions and people won't call you stupid,' Jet said.

Curly placed a hand on Ghoul's shoulder. "I don't think you're stupid, Ghoul. I think you're funny."

"Well, thanks kid. You're not so bad yourself."

Curly wouldn't dare mention that she'd already answered that question herself. She pondered death often, although they didn't know a thing about it. She'd decided some time ago the way she preferred to leave this world.

If she was ever forced to choose, Curly would die protecting them. What better way to go then in honor of the Killjoys?

Kobra pointed ahead. "There's Poison!" he called. They all looked ahead, the big blue mouse waving them over.

They exited the car with haste, grabbing supplies quickly and following Poison past the gate that blocked the path. There was a skeleton there, half buried in the dirt and sand. It wore a black marching band jacket, decorated with gold buttons that glistened in the setting sun.

Curly frowned. They were probably wonderful at what they did once upon a time. She couldn't help but let her mind wander and thing of what might have caused the poor soul's death.

She walked beside Jet wordlessly, her robot still hugged in her arms. They all walked wordlessly, the only sounds their dragging feet. Curly fixed her backpack to sit on her back more comfortably. It felt so weird to be there without the robot in there. It was lighter. Uncomfortable.

She fixed the pack again. It was never going to feel right. She didn't know why she tried. Her stomach suddenly growled. She hadn't even realized she was hungry until she heard the sound penetrate the silence in the air.

"Told you to eat…" Jet said, quietly. "Do you want to now?"

Curly shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she lied. Anything to avoid eating Power Pup.

They didn't walk for more than an hour. It was the simple fact that they had to get away from the roads. Once that Beach Boys song flooded through the speakers, they had to get away.

That song sang trouble. A group of vampires larger than they could handle were traveling back to Battery City. If they stayed it meant a fight. Hell, if they _didn't _stay it could still mean a fight. It was safer to leave. Get the car out of sight and get themselves even further.

Poison bartered for safe. He led them further into the desert until no one could hardly tell where they were anymore. They stopped eventually at a spot that looked no different from the others. Ghoul and Kobra held bags, filled with vital ingredients to their survival.

Ghoul had firewood, Kobra had food. Ghoul, good with fire, went straight to work getting on started. Kobra threw his bad, lazily on the ground and sat down beside it. Curly and Jet sat beside him.

Poison stood for a moment, staring at them through the mesh-covered eyes. It took him a moment to decided to remove the head. Sitting it on the ground, he looked over them . They were his group, his family. And looking at them, so depressed, it made him angry. He was angry that they couldn't be normal. They'd _never_ be normal, even without the circumstances. But they _were _a family… That much was true. It almost made him want to crack a smile.

* * *

The fire was burning warm and bright. They could sit around and chat for a while and feel real. Not like a Killjoy, but like human beings without a care in the world. No strings attached. No 'watch your back, never knowing what's around the corner' feeling.

Just talking.

"When I was younger, my parents and I would go to Batter City Fun Land," Ghoul was saying. "I was never really tall enough for the rides, you know? Didn't really grow until about fourteen… So my dad would have to bribe the man who worked the rides to let me on. My favorite was 'The Bone Crusher.' You know, the one that goes so fast that you couldn't even move 'cause you were glued back in your seat? I loved that one…" he chuckled, absently, and threw a dead twig into the fire.

"The very last time I went, I remember us going to the little picture screens… You know how they take your pictures on the ride? The ones no one ever really wants, but everyone looks at? We'd gone to look at ours. But in the corner, staring up at me was that stupid smile. My dad asked what it was. The dude behind the counter said, 'It's the new company that runs the amusement park. Better Living Industries. 'Have a BETTER day!'" Ghoul shuttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it and took his first drag, tapping his foot on the ground. "My mom, she thought it was great. 'Modern Day Expansion,' she kept saying. She didn't even know what that meant. She was just up for change. Always up for change. I felt weird about it… And then, well…"

He let the sentence drift off. They all knew what was next. They were the main components of the letters he sent. Ghoul inhaled on his cigarette again. "Next?"

They all stayed silent. No one was willing to pick up the invisible baton that Ghoul had dropped. It took a while for anyone to work up something to say, but Kobra eventually cleared his throat.

"My first time to recognize something was weird was just a regular day really… I was out with my older brother. We were driving around, he was hollering out the window to pretty girls he saw as they passed. Just normal. Then, we hit that deer…" Kobra shook his head.

"We didn't really live in the city. We lived in the suburb nearby. There was that huge wild life preserve near it… He was driving and it just came from nowhere. It was just frolicking along, not a care in the world and then _wham. _We were smashing into it. He tried to avoid it but it didn't happen. He smashed the right side of the car into a tree and we went spinning. Next thing I knew the car was just upside down."

Kobra coughed and stopped himself from rubbing her eyes. "I realized I was the only one in the car. I was fine until then. I wasn't bleeding or anything. I hardly had a scratch on me. But once I realized I was alone, I freaked out. I couldn't move. The seatbelt was holding me back and I couldn't get it undone. I was stuck, staring into the black, glassy eyes of a dead deer.

"It was at least an hour before anyone came to help. Can you imagine that? Sitting upside down in a car, leaking gas, wondering when it would explode for an hour? Add the deer and I was about to lose my mind.

"A fireman cut me loose. He pushed the deer out the way and pulled me out like a fucking _child." _He looked at the ground. "And then I saw it. As I watched them lift my brother's body bag into an ambulance, I saw it written on the back doors. 'Have a BETTER Day.' I fought like hell trying to get to that ambulance. They had my brother. I should have been with them… But they held me back and they brought me to a police car… I thought I was getting arrested.

"As they opened the doors and closed me in, I noticed the smile. And then, well… I cried. For a long time."

Curly shook her head. "But you never cry, Kobra…" She mumbled.

Kobra cleared his throat and this time he did wipe his eyes. "Everybody cries, kid," he said. They grew quiet again. Kobra sniffed and wiped a hand over his nose. "Next," he choked out, averting everyone's eyes.

Poison and Jet looked at each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Although Poison's face was still hard and scolding, the need to never remember his past again glimmered in his eyes.

Jet spoke first. "I thought it was fine at first," he said. "Better Living's expansion didn't seem so bad. I mean, the world was running smoothly and crime was at an all time low. It was nice… I guess. I think the first time I figured it out was in high school. I was writing, right? And I looked at my pencil. White, with a black eraser. That face, smiling up at me. It was _on _the eraser! The more I tried to ignore it and write, the more it looked at me. I just ripped it off and threw it across the room.

"That right there, that set the domino effect. The teacher looked up, like she was appalled. She yelled at me in front of everyone and they all seemed to agree. Everyone thought I was a bad kid anyways. I was always in a fight and always spending time suspended. So, when I got sent to the office with a referral, no one was surprised.

"I sat down in the office and I started to see it everywhere. Better Living Industries. Better Living Industries. Better _fucking _Living Industries. The school was contaminated. The _world _was contaminated. The _people_ were contaminated." He shook his head sighing heavily.

"It really hit me talking to the principal. What was the big deal about me pulling an eraser off of my _own_ pencil? I mean, it was an eraser. He yelled at me some and then he gave me _another_ pencil. Then he told me to leave… Go back to class. And as I got up and walked out, he said to me, 'Have a BETTER Day.' I got expelled that day… because I almost killed him…"

Curly couldn't imagine. Calm, gentle Jet, poised to kill? No, that wasn't possible. Not _her_ Jet. Not _her _Guardian Angel. He only killed vampires. That what all Killjoys did. Protect the good, defeat the bad. Even if the good thought they were the bad. None the less, Curly snuggled tighter beside him and rested her head on his arm. His hand absentmindedly ran through her hair. He sighed. "Next?"

They all looked at Poison. He sat with his arms crossed, the fire dancing in front of him, illuminating his face in red, flickering lights. He shook his head. "I don't have a story."

"Everyone has a story, Poison," Jet whispered.

"Yeah, we told ours," Ghoul said. "We want yours."

They'd been together almost two years and had never shared anything like they were sharing then. They were a family. A family that knew nothing of each other's past.

Curly looked at her hands. She hadn't joined them until barely a year before and they knew her past. But then again, there wasn't much to it really. She didn't remember a lot before the vampires found her and her mother, hiding in a ditch, in the dirt, in the middle of the desert. When her mother whispered "Run," and she did. As she turned back to see her being torn apart…

Then she didn't stop. She never stopped running until they caught her. And when they caught her, she was saved.

Poison still wasn't talking, permanent frown creasing his boyish features. His bright red hair was a perfect mess on his head. His brown eyes, glistening with anger, scolded the ground. Curly had such an urge to leave Jet's side and hug Poison, but she had no idea how he may react if she did. She'd stay put.

The quiet remained and it sunk into their skin like sunrays. They're eyes eventually averted from Poison and they went to do other things.

Kobra returned to flipping through his magazine, trying to prove to himself he wasn't crying anymore. Ghoul had begun to chain smoke, taking one cigarette after the other.

Jet still brought his comforting hand through Curly's hair. She yawned. Her eyelids felt heavy all of a sudden. They were beginning to slowly sink closed. No, she wouldn't fall asleep. She wasn't tired! She wasn't a little kid! She was going to stay awake!

But… Jet's hand in her hair did feel quite nice… The weather did seem rather perfect. And to have to be sleeping on the ground, she was quite comfortable against Jet's arm.

The crackle of the fire and… the cherry scent of Ghoul's cigarettes… The cool breeze…

It all mixed together and concocted the perfect formula for sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi. Been a while. As usual. Thanks for sticking around. I keep thinking of this: "And though you can see me smile I still think of the _**buns**_ they sell." And, quite honestly, those may be better lyrics.

**Disclaimer: **Most things about this shitty story, I don't own.

* * *

Jet stared at the fire. He'd heard before that it was bad for your eyes. He didn't believe that. He didn't care, honestly. He couldn't find anything else to look at, so why not the fire?

Curly snored quietly at his side, her head rested on his arm. It was uncomfortable, having to keep his arm held the way it was, but that didn't really matter. He would give up his own comfort for hers any day.

"It was when I was younger," Poison said, breaking the silence.

Jet took his eyes from the fire and looked at Poison. He was still looking at the ground. "Like, really little… Younger than Curly. Maybe six or seven. We didn't even live in Battery City. Not even in BC suburbs. But we'd come out every October for the Halloween parade. Every year my father and I went down into the city. My mom would stay home, always making up an excuse to not have to come. This time it was my little sister. She was a baby then… not even a year old.

"Anyways… It was just us. We were watching as the marching band went by. That was my favorite part… They all wore black uniforms and golden tailoring. They had this skeleton inspired makeup and… It was just amazing. I was so wrapped up in the band that I didn't even notice the man with the gun. Not until it was pointing at me. Nobody knew who he was or why he was there or why he had the gun… But everyone stop. They stared at us. My father attacked." Poison stopped. He coughed the same way Kobra had but kept his eyes on the ground.

"He got shot. Right in the stomach. Saving me. They moved. Everyone just moved. They moved away from us... No one tried to help or anything. He just fell to the ground. I tried to help it. I tried to stop the bleeding. It never stopped. I didn't know what I was doing. I was a kid! But everyone just watched… And with the last few breaths he could muster, he looked at me above him and he asked me a question. 'Will you be the savior of the broken? The beaten and the damned?' And then he died."

Poison groaned quietly, but his facial expression never changed. "That's when I figured it out. When they never caught the guy. When I was sitting there, next to my father's cold, dead body with blood all over my face and hands. _His _blood. It didn't take Better Living Industries to prove to me that the world is a fucked up place. I already knew. I've always known."

He shook his head. "Being an intern at Better Living didn't help though… The top intern at that…"

It was more difficult than ever for anyone to find anything to say. What _could _they say? Jet closed his mouth. He hadn't even realized it was open.

Poison, _Party Poison, _had just poured his heart out to them and they had no idea what to do now. Poison was never supposed to show his scars. He wasn't supposed to _have _any scars. He was supposed to be hard and mean and keep them all in check.

He wasn't the guy Jet saw now, rough eyes glazed over with uncried tears. This wasn't the Poison they knew. But who's to say that was the real Poison in the first place?

Ghoul's cigarette fell from his hand and extinguished itself in the dirt. "Shit," he mumbled. He was trembling and pulled out his next cigarette with a shaking hand. He had difficulty lighting it, but once he did, he seemed to calm. Such a dirty addiction Ghoul had. He could never be okay with a cigarette.

Jet sighed. Ghoul didn't seem to think he was Ghoul anymore without the nicotine pumping through his veins. Such a dirty addiction…

Jet's arm trembled. He was trying exceptionally hard to keep it steady. It was getting difficult to not let it collapse and have Curly go toppling. He wouldn't let that happen, though. For Curly, his own little addiction.

He was addicted to her safety, her presence, her living energy and her well being. If Curly wasn't safe, neither was anyone else. She was really all he had. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her. He wouldn't be _Jet _without her.

He tried to dismiss the thought. It didn't matter. That wouldn't happen.

He could have continued to think about it all night, until they saw the headlights.

* * *

Poison stood up. The lights were so far off, but he didn't trust them. He looked at Jet. "Get a flare from Curly's bag."

Jet picked up the small backpack with his left hand and carefully tried to unzip it with that hand alone.

Poison rolled his eyes. "You're gonna have to disturb her, Jet. I know you don't want to. You think you'll wake her, but I need a flare. Curly carries the flares."

Poison watched Jet reluctantly move Curly to the side and freeze up as she stirred. He didn't move again until she was soundly curled up at his side in the dirt. He unzipped her bag, dug through its few contents, and pulled out a flare. He tossed it to Poison who's caught it nimbly with the fingers of one hand.

He looked at them, the three who were all looking at him. He tilted his head. "Come on," he said, trying to keep his voice forceful. But he heard it crack. He heard it crack just like they all had.

Great…

Hard, mean, angry Poison had cut open his chest and laid his heart on the god damn table. Now, he couldn't keep the thing in his rib cage. It just kept falling out and hitting the dirt like the useless organ it was…

They continued to stare at him, bewildered by the crack in his voice. No. He wouldn't have this. "Get the fuck up!" he said, voice rising, tone harsh again.

Ghoul stood first. Such a coward. He could kill a Draculoid at the drop of a hat, but pin him up against Poison and he folded over twice. He was just a little brother, always trying to impress big brother. Even if big brother didn't deserve it.

Next up was Kobra. His feet trudged slowly, reluctantly. He never liked to do what Poison asked, right or wrong. Although Poison was usually right.

Jet didn't stand. He stayed firmly in place, staring at the ground just as Poison had. Jet did what he liked. Usually, he and Poison agreed and he would follow the pseudo leader's plan, but now was different. He wasn't going to leave Curly. Not without a fight.

"Get up, Jet," Poison said.

He shook his head.

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Get up."

Another shake of the head. He wasn't going to give up easily.

Poison couldn't allow him to take Curly. She would slow him down. If there was a problem, he'd obviously let Jet go off and swoop her up before anything went down. He just needed to come _now._

"Jet," he said. "Get up. Think of everyone. Not just her. What if those head lights are from a car filled with Dracs, huh? That's gonna breach all of our safety. We'll go down if we can't handle it, then she'll go down as well because you'll be overpowered. Just get up."

Jet looked up at him, the logic sinking in. He stood. "First sign of trouble and I'm gone, got it?"

Rolling his eyes, Poison turned – "Whatever," – and lit the flare.

* * *

Ghoul pulled his bandana over his mouth. He walked with tired legs behind the others. What he wouldn't give to be Curly right now, sleeping in the dirt with the half-working transmitters. Out of the way of danger. But there he was, following Poison to whatever they may be reaching.

He groaned. His legs really did hurt quite a bit. He needed the rest, but he wouldn't get it any time soon. He felt they'd be up all night.

When he was younger, when his legs got tired, he would be carried by a bigger adult. He couldn't figure out why he was thinking such a thing. _They _weren't going to carry him.

The group trudged along. Ghoul watched as Jet looked over his shoulder every now and then. He did this even when they were so far off that Curly was out of sight. As a matter of fact, he did it more often!

Ghoul shook his head. Jet really cared for that kid. Honestly, they all did. Not like Jet, though. He could hardly be away from the girl. He was like a father, much too protective of his child. But that wasn't quite it…

There was some sort of passion the two had for each other. It wasn't quite love so much as it was need. A father-daughter connection. A need for each other's presence.

He saw it that morning when Jet thought he's lost her. That wild look in his eyes that was only calmed when she was nearby.

He'd seen it in Curly too, once before when she'd first joined them. Jet and Kobra had left to survey the area and she sat with her eyes on fire, not speaking, not moving until his return.

The craziest thing was that it _worked._ There was nothing strange about it in the least. They were connected, those two. No one knew how, no one knew why. But they were. And it worked. Ghoul saw it more than anyone. It worked.

They were nearing the headlights. Poison held the flair out in front of him, the silhouette of a person unmoving in the brightness.

The flare illuminated their face with it's bright red glow. A mask. A white suit. A vampire, a Draculoid.

Jet ran as fast as his feet could take him.

* * *

Curly opened her eyes. "Damn it…"

She said she wasn't going to do that! She wasn't going to fall asleep! She was such a child…

She blinked, clearing her vision and sat up. She was… alone?

The fire was still burning, although it was dying down. The transmitters still blinked. But she was there by herself…

Curly pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. Why would they leave her alone? Why would _Jet _leave her alone?

They wouldn't. They'd never do that to her!

Right…?

She wiped away a tear forming in the corner of her eye. They wouldn't leave her alone. So something else must have happened…

She didn't want to think it but, could it have been the work of Better Living Industries?

The Draculoids?

Her eyes scanned the plane as if to see something that wasn't there. That's when she caught sight of the two bright white dots, barely on the horizon. What was it? Why couldn't she figure it out in her sleepy mind? Something as trivial as lights should have been easy enough, but her head wouldn't put it together.

She stood up, eyes still focused on the two dots in the distance. She found herself stuffing her robot in her satchel and pulling it over her shoulder. She'd figure out what it was. She'd just have to go to it.

"You don't want to go over there, little girl."

The voice scared the living hell out of her. She spun around so quickly that she stumbled.

A Drac stood behind her. A Drac and a man. Sinister looking and too tall to be real. She looked up at them with horror in her eyes. Suddenly, loneliness peeked in her mind. She was completely alone… and under attack.

"You must be the little _pet_ those bastards have been keeping," he said. "I've seen you on our surveillance tapes many times. I've also heard so much about you from my stooges. Nice to finally meet you. What's your name, darling?"

Curly shuttered. Her name?

She remembered the day before suddenly, standing with her head poked out the top of the car, shooting a Drac. Ripping the fucking thing clean in two.

"Missal Kid," she said, quickly.

Why did she answer at all? Maybe it was the fear that he struck in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was those eyes, those terribly insane eyes. Or maybe it was for her. Maybe giving herself an alter ego like the rest had made her feel more like a Killjoy. She couldn't really tell.

"Missal kid? Why, that can't be real." The man shook his head and clicked his tongue. "If if you insist… Come along, Missal Kid." He stepped towards her, reaching out a hand to take her arm.

Her mother's voice came to mind. The very last thing she'd heard from her before those blood curdling, soul killing shrieks of shear pain. "Run."

Curly took her knee and jammed it into his groin. He buckled over, grabbing his abdomen. That was the last thing she saw, because she shot off like a bullet. She could still hear the man speak as she darted off into the pitch black desert.

"No, don't shoot her. Cat and mouse, remember?"

* * *

They got rid of him quickly. Kobra lifted his gun and shot him square in the head.

Poison checked the car. It was empty.

This was too easy. Even for just one Drac. It didn't even try. The only thing Kobra could think of was a trap. It _had _to be a trap. "Guys…" he mumbled.

The three of them looked at each other. Their thoughts were in the same place. All together, they started back the way they came, following the now-dimming lights of the fire they'd left behind.

Kobra moved quicker than they did. He'd always been faster. But who would know that when he always slugged behind like he did?

He couldn't help but worry about Curly. He felt his worry should go to other things. The transmitters, the weapons, the food. But he only worried about Curly. He was pathetic…

He wasn't sure how quickly they'd reached the campsite. He knew immediately that something was wrong when he saw Jet, standing there with his back to them. Only Jet.

No Curly.

Just Jet.

"Oh, shit," Kobra said, quietly.

Ghoul looked franticly back and forth.

"Someone closed the transmitter!" he yelled, darting for their makeshift transmitter, made inside a briefcase. "Someone was _here!_"

He threw it open. "They scrambled it! Fuck!"

"She's gone…" Jet whispered. He turned around, his face absolutely broken. The furey behind his eyes locked onto Poison's face. "You're dead, you mother fucking bastard!" Jet charged after him, but Poison was a bit quicker.

Before he could lay a finger on him, Poison pulled a gun from his hip's holster and pointed it directly at Jet's temple. "Think about this, Jet," Poison said. "Curly's a smart kid. Real smart. She can handle herself, whatever the situation. Hurting me is not going to help."

Kobra felt awfully useless all of a sudden. Ghoul was pushing button after button on the transmitter, these two were arguing… What was he doing…?

Jet growled. "We're gonna find her, Poison. And soon. I mean it."

"Fine by me," Poison replied.

Kobra paced. He let his mind wander. Why would Better Living want Curly? What good was she to them? She was a kid. She couldn't do much… They'd have no use for her, would they?

Kobra stumbled over something and caught himself on the ground. The radio. Where ever she was, she didn't have the radio. He didn't know why he thought of that, or why he assumed Better Living Industries had gotten their grimy palms on her, or what any of it had to do with anything.

He sat beside it and flicked it on.

"_-off your transmitters. I repeat, all Killjoys turn off your transmitters. Breach in Danger Zone I. I repeat, breach in Danger Zone I. Killjoys, watch your asses."_

Dr. Death Defying faded and old 70's indie music flooded the empty silence in front of Kobra.

_Lets dance in style/ Lets dance for a while. / Heaven can wait / we're only watching the skies./ Hoping for the best but expecting the worst./ Are you gonna drop the bomb tonight?_

Ghoul was frantic, fingers moving like bullets on the buttons. Poison still held a gun to Jet's head. The strain that was put on them at the moment hurt Kobra like hell. This wasn't how they were supposed to be…

* * *

The night stretched to the day and they never stopped searching. She was nowhere. Jet stood in the emptiness before him and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Curly!"

He was calling in vain. He had to be. She would have answered if she was there. She would have come running from where ever she was hiding straight to him…

He'd never stop looking until found her, and if he didn't… Well, someone was going to die…

* * *

It was just like that day. They'd spent the night in a ditch so similar. Maybe this was the same ditch? _What did it matter? _she thought. _I'm in a fucking ditch…_

She was alone… How could they do such a thing? Just leave her alone like that?

She stood up and poked her head out the hole. The sun blinded her. Sweat beaded from under her helmet and dripped onto her eyelashes. She wiped them away and pulled off her helmet. Another item into her satchel.

She'd planned on sending a flare out that cold night. She knew she had one… But when she checked, it was gone. They would have found her so quickly, so easily with a flare. Unless they were in trouble… In which case, she'd have to grow a pair and save them.

Curly blinked away the sun and cursed quietly to herself. She always surprised herself whenever she used a swear. It felt extremely grown up. She actually liked it a bit. The guys didn't care either. But she never felt like she used them right.

She'd hear swears roll off Ghoul and Kobra's tongues like silver and sting the air so wonderfully. Poison used _Fuck_ a lot, and she absolutely adored the way it slipped out and floated through the air like the dead leaf of an autumn day. Jet cursed less often, but even when he did it sounded correct. She always felt a bit foolish…

She couldn't quite figure out why she was thinking of such things at a time like this. Maybe it was her mind, trying to put her at ease. That would only last for so long, though… Eventually, her thoughts would drift back to Jet and the others and she'd be tortured by loneliness once more.

Curly pulled herself up out the hole and scratched her head, pulling out the curls matted to her head. She scanned her surroundings. Each direction looked the same. Rocks, dead trees, tumbleweeds.

She'd just have to pick. She only knew one surefire way to do that. "Eenie, meenie, minie, moe…"

To the left. Okay. Left was good. She was left handed. Obviously, left was the only way that made sense.

She started off, walking quickly. She couldn't stop looking over her shoulder, expecting to see another Draculoid stalking behind her. It was nerve wracking, feeling as though you were being followed. To not have anyone to protect you… To feel so helpless.

There was that loneliness… It grabbed at her heart and squeezed hard. It made her heart beat faster and her throat feel as though it were closing. She swallowed back tears.

She needed them. She needed _Jet. _She couldn't be alone. She needed companionship.

She reached over and pulled her robot from her satchel. She hugged it to her chest and sighed, a tear escaping and hitting the ground.

Stupid emotions… Sometimes, she wished she could be more like Poison and not feel a thing for anyone. It had to be easy for him…

It sound of an engine faltered her thoughts and danced its way to her ears. She followed it, hoping with all her heart to see Poison's car speeding down the desert towards her. But, that wasn't it. It was a white motorcycle, hurtling across the wasteland. Towards her.

She was running again.

She knew it wouldn't be fast enough. There was no way she could out run a motorcycle.

They caught up with quickly, swerving to a stop in front of her, blocking her path. She did the first thing that came to mind. She threw the robot at the Drac and kept moving. The opposite way this time, but still in vain.

Hearing the engine cut off, she thought she was safe. What a stupid thing to think.

Curly looked over her shoulder again. Apparently she was such an easy target that the Draculoid took off on foot.

She didn't know what she fell over. She wasn't paying attention. It was one of those crucial moments where you had to do everything right, but it all seemed to go wrong. All she knew was one minute she was on her feet and the next, her chest had hit the ground.

It blew the wind out of her and she desperately gasped for air. The vampire chuckled and she turned over to see it closer than she assumed. Taking deep breaths, he inched away from him. There was nothing she could do. Nowhere she could go.

She was trapped.

The Drac let out an ear splitting cackle. He threw his head back and howled wildly. "This was too easy," he said.

He approached her slowly, seconds from having her in his clutches, and suddenly dropped to the ground.

Curly looked at the open flesh wound, directly on the back of his head. A laser gun had done that. She knew her wounds.

"Jet is gonna kill you, kid."

Curly's eyes moved quicker than her brain could comprehend. It took her a moment or two to realize it was Poison who had spoken, now blowing into his blaster like a modern day cowboy.

Curly scrambled to her feet, tripping herself, and rushed over to him. She hugged him like she had thought she'd never see him again. And she had.

"Poison!" she exclaimed.

"Whoa, kid. Get the fuck off me."

Curly let him go and watched him point a flare into the air.

She scowled. "Is that mine?" she asked, attitude in her tone.

"No," he said, rolling his eyes. "This is from the car. But we did use yours. Sorry, or whatever."

So, _that's _where it had gotten off to!

Poison shot the flare into the air. Its glow was dim in the morning sun, but enough for the others to know she had been found.

"Come on," Poison said. "We gotta move fast."

Poison's long legs moved fluidly over the desert floor. She almost had to run to keep up with him. But this was fine with her. She was no longer lost. She was going to be with them again. The Killjoys.

The ones she forever wanted to call family.

It didn't completely set in until she saw Jet. He was the first to reach them. And he was running.

She suddenly found the happy tears welling from her eyes and she was running too. She couldn't see. She could never see when she cried. The tears always blinded her.

But as soon as she crashed into him and he pulled her into that hug, lifting her off the ground, she knew she was safe.

"Where the hell _were_ you!" he yelled. He sounded furious, but his grip never loosened, as though he thought she'd float away if he didn't hold tight enough.

Curly couldn't organize the words. They all came flooding at once. "I… You… I- I woke up and… I was alone! And the Draculoid! And the man! Those eyes! I ran, Jet! It was all I could think of! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

She cried loud and audibly and if he said anything to comfort her, she didn't hear a word of it. It was just the sound of her, crying. And maybe it was him as well. But, she didn't believe he cried at all. He never had before. At least, not in front of her.

As he pulled her from the hug, she saw her assumption to be correct. Not a tear had fallen. Either that, or he was hiding it very well.

She wiped her face on her sleeve and stuttered in a breath. That was enough crying. She had to be a big kid again.

Jet patted the top of her head. "You did the right thing, alright? Don't be sorry. You're safe now."

* * *

Ghoul was the last one to arrive. When he got there by the work of his tired legs, Poison was standing impatiently; Kobra was looking just as pointless as ever as he stood combing back his hair and every now and then fooling with the radio.

Jet and Curly sat cross legged on the ground, speaking in hushed tones to each other. He couldn't get too close to them, he'd probably catch the cooties.

He found himself collapsing into the dirt and laying on his back. He couldn't do it anymore. He brought his half used-up cigarette to his lips and inhaled. He just wanted to sleep.

"I haven't slept in over thirty-eight hours," he mumbled. No one was listening. He wasn't expecting them to. He just closed his eyes and waited for someone to wake him.

It happened much sooner than he thought, his dream world being pulled away from him.

"Oh, look. A family reunion. The Killjoys, reunited with their pet."

He knew that voice. They all did. And none of them had heard it in over a year and a half. It was the lead exterminator.

Ghoul's eyes shot open. He sat up and glared at him. The tall, bald man with the sinister eyes. There was nothing worse than the look in his eyes.

Ghoul climbed to his feet and stumbled into the straight line formation that his team had created.

"She's _not _a _pet," _Jet said harshly.

"What are you doing out, Korse?" Poison asked the man, as though he were an old friend. "Don't you Draculoids explode in the sun? Or sparkle or something…?"

Ghoul's eyes began to focus. Four of them. Four of us. Fair fight. But why? That wasn't how Better Living worked. They ganged up. What was he planning?

"Pull your guns, Killjoys," he said. "We're gonna play a little game."

"Don't fuck with me," Poison said. "There's no game between us."

The man chucked. "But, there're always been a game between us. Oh, Malikai… Whoops!"

Ghoul's eyes shot to Posion's. The other's face had dropped completely. The carefully placed mask Poison always wore was dissolving. All his flaws were showing.

"Wh-what?" Poison's speech faltered. Then, his hand was at his belt, pulling out a gun and each of them followed.

For once, the Draculoids were quicker. They drew their guns and they shot.

Ghoul's eyes grew heavy. His legs wobbled under him, and he fell without the slightest attempts to catch himself, into a frightening dreamless slumber.


	7. Chapter 7: Part Two: SING

What's this! _Updating earlier than usual!_ I must be going _mad! _Actually, I just ended my last day of high school. More time for me to do stuff. Woo! Let's get this Part Two started. It follows the SING format, but it's still a little different. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Me? _Own things! _Well, I never.

* * *

"Cat and mouse…"

"Get the girl…"

"Just a game…"

"He's waking up…"

Party Poison's eyes flickered open, vision blurry and shifting. They focused slowly on the gun pointing down at him and the man behind the trigger.

Korse stared down at him, teeth bared, eyes wild with insanity. "Keep running."

Directly beside him, Curly struggled against the powerful arms of a Draculoid. Another one held the radio, flipped it over in his hands, and inspected it as though he were unfamiliar with it.

Poison tried with all his strength to get up, to keep his heavy eyes open. Nothing worked. His eyes shut once more and his head hit the dirt. Only two words drifted in and out of his mind.

_Keep running. Keep. Running._

_Keep. Running._

_Keep…_

_Running…_

* * *

He rolled over, uneasily. _Keep running._

"Fuck."

They had Curly. What was he going to tell Jet? _Keep running. _

What was it those bastards shot at them? Damn sure wasn't lasers.

Poison tried to sit up, but his arms faltered under him and gave out. He hit his head hard on the ground. "Mother… _Fuck!"_

Poison kicked into the air. He knew what the problem was. He pulled up his jacket sleeve, slowly and with trouble, revealing the brand new scar there. The Better Living Industries Logo. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now he had two of them.

What they shot was a sleep-inducing drug. A dissolving dart. Once it was shot at someone, it clung to them and sunk into their skin. And it was all topped off with the Better Living Industries Touch. He groaned, pushing himself off the ground again.

He turned to Jet, lain across the desert floor and shook him. "Jet… Jet, get up." Jet stirred. "Get up," Poison repeated.

Jet opened his eyes, his pupils converting from dilation. "I can't see…" he mumbled.

"Yeah, it'll do that. It's a side effect from the drug that they shot at us. Just wait a minute. It _should _come back." Poison sighed. He wasn't completely sure. Being an intern for Better Living Industries didn't teach you much. Only to be a good little sheep, take your meds, let them use you as a test rat, and don't get in their way.

"Drug…?" Jet mumbled, confused.

"What drug?" This was Kobra, sitting up in the dirt, completely unharmed. He scratched the back of his head and squinted at the setting sun. "What the fuck happened?"

Poison stood, wobbling slightly. Ghoul was still out cold, but he _should _be alive. He worried about Ghoul. The shot could have easily killed him. His lungs weren't the strongest. Ghoul was tough, though… He'd probably be fine.

"They didn't shoot bullets at us. It was a dart. A tranquilizer, basically. Once it makes physical contact with someone, it hangs on and dissolves into your blood stream. There's no telling how long we've been asleep. Check your bodies. Arms, legs, stomachs. You've got a mark somewhere. Kobra, wake up Ghoul. We've got to go."

Poison's voice was calm, but his mind was in a fury. He was angry, scared, upset, all in one. But he had to be a leader right now. He couldn't let them know. He couldn't let anyone know. He was Poison. He only knew two emotions. Apathy and annoyance. He was the leader. He had to lead.

Jet sat up. "My eye…" he mumbled. "I can't see out of my right eye." Suddenly, something clicked and both his eyes flashed. "Where's Curly?"

"Ghoul's not waking up," Kobra said, urgency in his tone.

_Shit… _This is where being a leader was difficult. When everything was going wrong.

"They got her, Jet," Poison said, walking over to Kobra and Ghoul. "Is he breathing? Does it sound like he's having any problems?"

Kobra put an ear to Ghoul's chest and listened. "A little," he mumbled. "It's kind of broken up. Like when he runs for a long time."

"He should be fine. But don't try to wake him up anyone. We'll have to carry him."

"Who is _they, _Poison?" Jet was on his feet now, stumbling towards them. "I swear if those mother fuckers got their hands on her…"

"They did," Poison said. He turned towards Jet. "Now, here's what we're gonna do. We're going to Battery City and we're going to get her. Simple as that." It wasn't as simple as that… God, he knew that too well.

"Then let's go. There's no use in us waiting around here. That's not getting Curly back any quicker."

Jet turned and started off, quickly, tripping himself as he tried to move along.

"Jet, we're going to go. But you have to slow down. The effects haven't worn off of any of us, except Kobra. And that's only because he's a fast healer. We've got to move slow." Poison crossed his arms over his chest. This was a delicate time and he understood completely. But, Jet was going to have to listen to him, or he was going to snap.

"No time. We have to go."

"Jet, you can't even see out of one of your eyes! What are you going to do without backup? We're not going yet. You're the only one." Poison rolled his eyes, walking steadily towards him.

Jet spun around and faced him. "We have to _go!_ They've got Curly! I promised I'd _never _let that happen! _I _have to go!"

The fiery gaze in Jet's eyes glistened with tears he refused to cry. He was completely anguished. Poison had to choose his words carefully.

"Curly is a part of this family," Poison said. "We're going to get her. But we've got to be tactful…"

"Fuck tact, _Malikai!"_

Jet may have said something else after that, but Poison didn't hear it. That name deafened his hearing and blinded his good judgment. He gained on him quicker than his legs moved and took him by the collar. He raised a first, ready to smash it into his face.

His fist didn't make it, though. It didn't go spiraling down and smashing into his teeth like he'd planned it to. Jet caught it in his own hand, and they both glared at each other, tension heating. "Don't you _ever _call me that, Jet. I spent too much time forgetting that name and you will _not_ bring it up again. I don't care what you heard from anyone. It's _Party Poison. _Understand?"

"Let me go, Poison," Jet growled. "And let's go."

Poison's grip on his collar tightened for a moment and then he released him. The gaze never left. "Kobra," he called. "Get Ghoul. We've got a long walk."

* * *

She'd given up struggling. She'd given up being terrified. She'd given up screaming. She was sitting quietly now, in the back seat of a sleek black sports car, in between a Draculoid and the head of Better Living Industries, staring straight ahead.

The tented windows made it look much darker outside than it really was. She never stopped expecting to feel the wind over her face and dancing in her hair like she did in Poison's car. This was so surreal. She hated this.

The dirty desert roads she loved so much eventually ended and a tunnel began. So, they really were headed back. Back to Battery City. The city she hadn't seen in so long that she could barely remember what it was like. She didn't want this. But there was nothing she could do. She was defenseless. Just a little girl with nothing to protect herself with. She'd tried running. It hadn't worked. There was nothing she could do… Except wait.

"Are you afraid, little girl?" Korse asked, looking at her from the side of his eye. The sickly grin he had in his face was one she'd like to punch in.

She shrugged. "A little."

He chuckled softly. "Do you fear for your life?"

She looked at him. "No," she said, shaking her head.

He blinked and stared at her. "What?" he asked. He looked shocked. He'd obviously never gotten that answer before.

"No, I don't," she repeated.

Another soft chuckle, then he reached inside his coat and pulled out a gun. He held it in front of himself, inspecting it. "That's funny, dear child. They _always_ fear for their lives." He pressed the end of the gun into her curls, making sure it touched her head. "Do you fear now, child?"

Curly felt the butterflies in her stomach, but she ignored them. She stood her ground. "No," she said. "You won't do it."

He shook his head in disbelief. "What is _wrong_ with you, child? Why aren't you afraid?"

"They'll come find me. They never leave me alone for long." She smiled.

* * *

Ghoul opened his eyes slowly. He hurt. Everything hurt. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his head was pounding. The rest of the pain was minor, but it was everywhere. His fingers, his legs, his nose. It was a constant ache. He groaned.

"Look alive, sunshine," Poison mumbled.

"What happened?" Ghoul asked, shaking his head and sitting up in his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. The carton was completely empty. "Fuck…"

"We're going back to Battery City," Poison said.

"They got Curly…" Jet muttered from the seat beside him.

"We sent out a flare. We're getting back-up. I don't know when…" Poison stepped down on the gas.

"We're going back?" Ghoul asked. "Really?" He couldn't help the sudden joy that swelled up inside him, but it faded quickly. "They got Curly? Fuck that! How long till we get there?"

"About an hour," Poison said, "We've been on the road for a while now."

Ghoul rubbed his face, trying to rub away the tired agitation and frowned. What was that on his face? He leaned forward between Poison and Kobra and looked into the rearview mirror.

A scarring welt was growing on his right cheek. A deformed, twisted logo from Better Living Industries.

* * *

"Why must I watch this child? I am the head of the security department! I am not some kind of babysitter!"

The woman was very business-like, with a black women's suit and skirt set. She was Asian in appearance, standing tall on thick high heels and her hair cut perfectly at her shoulders. She crossed her arms, teeth snarled behind red lipstick.

The head grabbed her cheeks and squeezed. "You're the only one I trust, darling. Take it as an honor. I don't trust many women. I can always pit you in with the other useless women in the kitchen. Or, how about the feeding room?"

Curly saw the fear flash in her eyes. "No, this is very okay. She is just a child. There is not much she can do."

Yup, that was Curly. Just a useless child. She had come to terms with that, watching the dead eyed citizen of Battery City enter their homes as they drove through the vague city streets. That didn't matter, though. She was just waiting for the Killjoys to show up.

"Exactly, my love." He kissed her nose lightly. "Now, I'll be off. I must rest. It's stressful work, taking over the world." With that, he turned on his heels, and was headed towards the door.

"What am I supposed to do with her!" the woman called.

The head threw a hand into the air and shrugged. "I don't know. Keep her occupied. Give her a ball or something."

A ball? What was she, five? She played with _robot_ toys. Not to mention the occasional transmitter and ray gun. God, they did think she was a child. Whatever… Didn't matter. She didn't plan on being here long anyway.

They both stood in the main hall of the Better Living Industries headquarters for quite a while. The woman stared at Curly for some time, making her uncomfortable.

Curly averted her eyes and looked around the corridor. The empty front desk was illuminated in the moonlight and made the sign above it glow.

**Better Living Industries**

**BL/ind**

**BLIND**

"Hello, little girl," the woman said.

"Hi," Curly sad, watching the sign.

"Do you wish to know my name?"

Curly shook her head.

"Oh," the woman said. "Well then, what is yours?"

"Missal Kid," Curly said confidently, her eyes never leaving the sign.

Blind…

They'd blinded an entire city and they were working on the world. The life sucked away from what was once a perfect city. Sure, there was crime and it had its flaws, but… Would you destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful?

"Missal Kid is not a realistic name, darling. Come along, we will figure out your real name."

The woman took her wrist and pulled her off. She cooperated, no longer finding the point in a struggle. She led her from the corridor into a hallway, lined with offices. Along the opposite wall were posters. Endless posters. The posters she'd seen even in the desert. One of Party Poison. One of Kobra Kid. One of Fun Ghoul. One of Jet Star.

Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate.

She'd always know that the Killjoys were out to be killed, but this was the first time it ever really hit her.

The Killjoys were the lights that helped the world see in Better Living Industries blinded world. And they wanted them dead.

Her stomach sunk and she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to vomit where she stood.

The woman pulled her on, and pointed at a Drac. "You. Get the child a toy. A BLI brand kickball."

Then, she stepped towards an elevator and pressed its 'UP' button.

The end of the hall stopped the repetition of the posters. There was only one face there eventually, the posters thrown up any way they could fit. Poison's face. One after the other, after the other, after the other. The woman pulled her into the elevator. Her stomach still turned and her heart beat fast. She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit.

* * *

The quiet stretched on for an unbelievable amount of time. He hated patrolling the tunnels. He rarely had to, but for some reason, they needed extra patrols tonight. So he was stuck with the tunnel weirdo, wearing the 'human' cloth BLI mask who never even spoke.

He groaned. He was a guard! He should be at headquarters, surveying, or out in the desert, taking down some damn zone runners! But, here he was, spending his night _here, _watching the tunnels with a guy he couldn't even have a conversation with!

He was terribly bored… Another flip through this nudie magazine in his lap was not going to help. SHINEY was not a good skin magazine. There wasn't any skin! Only metallic asses and metal tits. And somehow, there he was again, flipping through it. He stared down at the chrome and sighed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the window. He looked up. His dumbass, silent companion that had sat outside the booth with his gun in his lap, staring straight ahead was now pointing frantically down the tunnel.

His head shot up and his eyes down the tunnel. Headlights. And they were gaining fast. He stood quickly and grabbed his ray gun. He ran from the booth and they stood in front of the drop-down gate, poising their guns, nervously. A car that fast was only trouble.

They wouldn't hit them, would they? No… Cars entering Battery City were always kind and courteous to their methods. Then why wasn't this car slowing down…?

* * *

Curly's stomach growled. "Are you hungry, little girl?" the woman asked.

Curly looked up at her. Yes, very much. "No."

"Nonsense. I heard your tiny little stomach growl. We all did. Didn't we?" A group of Draculoids, surveying cameras with pictures of the Battery City streets and the desert outskirts infront of a giant transmitter, all mumbled agreements. "We will go get you food. Come along." The woman grabbed her arm and pulled on it, forcing her to stand.

It had been at least three days since she had eaten. She couldn't remember, really. It was taking a toll on her, however. There was a constant pain in the back of her head and the vacant space in her stomach couldn't be ignored. But, how could she eat here? How could she eat _their _food?

She wouldn't. She simply wouldn't. "I'm not hungry," she said, but her stomach gave away her lie. The woman pulled her along, all the way into a large cafeteria. She shoved her towards a table where a couple of Draculoids sat, playing cards and ordered her to sit.

She shook her head. "I'll stand."

The woman shrugged. "As you wish. Watch the child," she said to one of the masked vampires.

"Whatever," the other replied, waving her away.

Curly stood awkwardly, the two Draculoids staring her up and down. "Why is he keeping her?" one asked.

"I don't know. The kid looks pretty useless. Probably wouldn't even be filling."

Curly grimaced and looked away from them to the television show being projected on the large window directly across. So anyone inside could see it and anyone outside could see it.

"Welcome to Fact New. The Only News."

The man on the screen was overwhelmingly plain, thick glasses and blonde hair slicked back. He swiveled around in a chair and tried for his best intense stare. It didn't work.

"Millions of artificial flies will be released into the atmosphere tomorrow morning as a part of Battery City's new surveillance system. Citizens are urged to no longer smash the insects, because you might be destroying government property, which could result in a one million dollar fine or a thirty year sentence in prison. Now, time for Though Adjustment."

The screen turned a blinding white and an empty black circle appeared in the middle. Above it was written Thought Adjustment and below it was 'BL/ind.'

Inside the circle, many other circles formed a new circle. In the middle of that one, a lone one. Each one began to spin in different directions, making a dizzying image, all except the center one that didn't budge.

A woman's voice began to speak, like a movie phone voice. Pleasant and annoying.

"Please stare into the center of the moving shape."

Curly immediately found herself looking away, down towards the floor. No… She wouldn't be like the rest of them, all those dead eyed people she saw heading into their homes after a long day of being a good little sheep. She wouldn't be blinded.

"Little girl, you must watch the Thought Adjustment." Curly jumped from her skin. She shook her head, glancing at the packaged sandwich in the woman's hand. She sat the sandwich down, along with a small juice box. Both marked with the BLI logo.

"Yes, little girl. It is customary after each news segment."

"I don't want to."

The woman took Curly's head in her hands. Curly fought her, but she forced her face towards the screen. It all disappeared then. There was only the voice… The voice and the shape.

I'm so happy to be alive.

Everything is going to be fine.

Did I take my medication today?

Keep working hard to stay alive.

Goodbye.

The shape disappeared and was replaced by a quickly fading image of the Better Living logo.

Mmm… Food. That would be nice. Bailey sat at the table with the two mean and ate.


	8. Television

_Welcome back to Fact News. The Only News. And now for our weekend weather report. In zones three through five, there will be a high of 110F degrees and a low of 107F. In zones six through eight, there is a slight to severe chance of acid rain that will continue throughout the week. In Battery City, it will remain a pleasant 72F degrees. Signing off from Fact News. The Only News._

* * *

_Have you ever wondered what the next stage of human elevation will be? **The Inner-Internet!** Speed like you've never seen before, with rapid fire email and self aviate from spam! A site for every lifestyle! **The Inner-Internet!** Not recommended children or the elderly._

* * *

_Tired of having feelings? Get rid of those feelings of depression, sadness and anger. BLI brand medication makes all those things go away. Talk to your doctor today. BLI medication. For A Better Tomorrow._


	9. Chapter 9

I know, I know I'm awful for not updating in ages. But guess what. I'm finishing up until they release the next video. (IF THEY RELEASE IT! WHAT'S THE FUCKING HOLD UP!) Sorry, that caps lock was completely unnecessary. I made some shit in this super fucking corny because I wanted to, by the way. Anywho, I'm seeing MCR again in August, if anyone's interested. Anyone? No? Alright. On with the story.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. Whatevs.

* * *

They knew the plan. They knew it was a long shot. They were going for it anyway. Kobra pulled his glove up to his wrist. He was gonna snap a neck tonight if it was the last thing he did.

The car sped down the tunnel, the windows rolled up and the sun roof closed. They never road like that. But that was because that's what Curly enjoyed. The outdoors, the wind in her hair. Why do what she enjoyed if they couldn't see her enjoy it? A unanimous feeling of dread spread throughout the car as they watched Poison approaching the two Better Living employees. He wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to slow down.

Poison's brutal apathy towards everyone and everything Better Living was stronger than all of theirs. Kobra could have smiled, but the occasion didn't call for it.

Poison stepped down on the gas and the car cascaded down the tunnel like a bullet from the chamber of a gun. The bullet crashed directly into the Better Living employees and their lame gate. Kobra glanced in the rear view mirror with Poison, just in time to see a feeble, shaking hand press a large red button.

Kobra put it together quickly. An alarm. Silent. Better Living Industries wouldn't want to worry the perfect little utopia of Battery City. The alarm would go straight to the headquarters. No one would hear it but them.

* * *

A ball. How nice of them. Bailey had been rolling it back and forth for some time now. It was quite fun, in its own simple way. Simple was nice… The ball was nice… All the children were playing with them. How nice of them to give her one.

"What is your name, little girl?" the kind woman asked her. She was so nice.

"My name is Bailey Summers."

The woman looked up. She spoke to the men with the cool masks behind the giant machine. It blinked and was covered in flashing buttons. What fun it must be. "Put that name in the computer. Get all the information you can on a Bailey Summers."

Hey, that was her name! She looked up at the woman and smiled. The nice woman smiled back for a brief moment and then looked away. She must be busy…

Bailey returned to her ball. How nice it was of them to give it to her.

* * *

Poison came to a stop on the wet, slick streets of Battery City, directly in front of their destination. Better Living Industries loomed over them, shining and metallic in the full moon light.

"What's the plan, Poison?" Jet asked.

"We go in and we shoot. Watch each other's backs, find Curly and get out of there as quickly as possible."

"Where's the backup? " Kobra asked.

"They're around," he said.

"They're not going in with us?" Ghoul questioned.

"No," he said. "They're here if something goes wrong." Poison opened his door and got out. They all followed.

_Wrong._ That word was going to stick around.

"This way," Poison said, pointing at a side entrance across a bridge. "Into the Scarecrow Unit. That's where they take all of their security measures. Curly's probably there. That's our best bet."

They stared across the bridge, Jet behind Poison, then Kobra, then Ghoul. Ghoul was having a bit of trouble, but he was sucking it up and keeping pace with the rest of them.

It wasn't long before they were spotted, and two or three Draculoids were attempting to block their entrance, holding ray guns in front of them. They were expecting them.

Dracs seemed more confident at their headquarters, guns held steady. They weren't in the desert now. They were on their territory.

The Killjoys, still much quicker and much more prepared raised their own guns. Kobra shot first, catching one in the face. The rest came quickly after, taking down the final two before they continued through the entrance.

More shots were fired inside as more Draculoids arrived, panicked into the hall. There was a security breach taking effect, and they were the cause. Poison pointed towards a door. "That way," he said, stalking towards it and push it open. A staircase, reaching up at least twenty floors high. "The stairs are a better bet than the elevator. Less predictable."

They stared up the bright, white staircase and the Draculoids flooded out the doors. The killjoys moved quickly, dodging lasers and taking down Dracs as they ascended up the stairs.

Move quickly, shoot quickly, watch each other's back. Find Curly. Get out.

The hassle Poison had expected didn't seem to be happening. His simple plan looked like it was working. Draculoids were falling left and right, but they remained unharmed. They continued, keeping each other safe, all the way to the top floor. That was what was important. Them. Their safety. And retrieving Curly.

Poison shoved open the door, faced with another group of Draculoids, all ready to shoot. His mask faltered at the sight of the four barrels pointing directly at him. Several shot fired from the boys behind him, taking the Dracs out with ease. Poison nodded. "Let's go. Down the hall. Jet, up front with me. Ghoul, Kobra, stay at the door and watch the hall."

"Got it," Ghoul muttered.

Jet came to Poison's side and they started down the hall with aggressive steps. Fuck discretion. They had to get that kid. They stopped at the glass door on the left side of the end of the hall and pushed through it.

* * *

Jet took out the two Draculoids in front of their large transmitter. Poison stepped inside. "Hello, Keiko," he said to the serious looking woman inside.

Jet's eyes averted and looked to Curly, sitting quietly on the floor, looking down at a ball in her hands. "Curly!" he called. She didn't look up. "Curly!"

Jet looked at Poison, pointing a gun at the woman. She rushed past him and out the door. Kobra lifted his gun at her. "No," Poison said. "She's not worth it."

Curly looked up at the mayhem in front of her, big brown eyes vacant. Jet stepped up to her. "Curly, come on, we have to go _now." _He took her arm and pulled lightly. She pulled away.

Everything slowed as soon as she pulled from him. Wait, that wasn't like Curly. What the fuck just happened? He stared down at her. The emotionless gaze in her eyes… "Curly…"

"Who's Curly?" she asked.

Jet's heart stopped working. "No…" This wasn't happening. What had they _done _to her? "Poison, what's wrong with her?"

"Thought Adjustment," Poison said, looking at nothing in particular. It obviously hurt him to think about it. "Do you remember any time that the news would be on? The 'moving shape' would come on right after? Removes all emotion from your brain, then they'll play those commercials for Better Living medication and stuff. They turn you into a zombie, really. The perfect little sheep that Better Living Industries wants you to be. You can jog her memory. You've got one minute. If you don't get it, just grab her and run."

Jet wasted no time. He kneeled in front of her. "Curly, listen…"

She smiled. It wasn't Curly's perfect little smile. This smile was too beautiful. "My name is Bailey Summers," she said. "Look, they gave me a ball! Wasn't that nice of them?" She held it up for him to see.

"What? Get that out of here!" He swatted the ball from her hands. She watched it bounce away and shrugged.

"I am so happy to be alive."

"Curly listen to me," he said again, grabbing her shoulders and shaking. "It's Jet. It's Jet Star. Do you remember me? The desert and the car and the Killjoys! Shooting Dracs in the fucking head! Curly, please, remember!" Jet was running out of words to say. His mind was in a shambles and the flurry of things he could think of all got trapped in his throat at the same time.

"Jet Star? That's not a realistic name, sir. Bob or Gary. Those are realistic names. And Bailey. That's my name."

"Thirty seconds, Jet," Poison pressed.

Jet took her hands and shook them. Why was he shaking her? What would it help? "Curly, it's us! Jet and Poison and Ghoul and Kobra! Your family! It's _me! _Your savior, you're guardian angel! It's me!"

"Fifteen seconds."

Jet looked into Curly's eyes, dead of all their innocence and childhood. The eyes that always gave her away. She was in there… What could he say to her? How could she ever remember? It was lost. Completely lost. He felt the tears sting his eyes, looking at her little hands in his. He squeezed her hands and closed his eyes, trying to keep the liquid bells from falling. But they escaped anyways. One after the other.

* * *

Bailey blinked. These men were confusing her. They'd run off the nice people that were watching over her so kindly, and now they call her Curly? What were these odd names they had? Why did they want her with them? She was very confused. Where was the ball? She liked the ball. It wasn't confusing like this situation.

What was this liquid falling from his eyes? It was overt and foreign. An emotion? Yes… She remembered those things. She liked those. This, this here. It was sadness. Tears indicated sadness. She didn't like that one so much, but wasn't it vital? For happiness? She liked that one. Happiness. Yes! But, what indicated happiness?

Robots. Those made her happy. And colorful ray guns.

Long drives in the desert sun with the wind in her hair. Screaming with joy outside the window because she was moving so fast that she felt like she was flying.

Profanities…

And…

Boom boxes and…

Ghoul's jokes and…

Kobra's random acts of kindness that were few and far inbetween and his high fives and…

Poison, proofreading her letters for her and…

Jet. Always Jet. Jet was her smile. Without Jet, there was no happiness.

Curly blinked several times. "Jet…" she whispered, reaching for his face and wiping away a tear. "You're crying. You never cry."

Jet looked at her, his broken face showing a sign of hope. "Curly…?"

Curly smiled her silly little smile and nodded.

Jet threw his arms around her and hugged her much too tightly. She could barely breathe, but it didn't matter because she was right. They never left her alone for long. She hugged him back.

"This is very sweet and all, but we gotta get the fuck out of her right now," Poison said, matter-of-factly. "Come _on!"_

* * *

She was rushing down the hall in her thick heels, smooth steps taken with caution. It never pleased her to have to wake Korse, but the occasion called for it. The occasion would be solved soon enough. She pulled up the antenna on the clunky, grey remote in her hands and pressed several buttons. It was time for the extermination to begin.

* * *

Kobra complained for quite some time. Why wouldn't they take the same route leaving? They'd be out of there in no time! Or dead… But he wasn't rooting for the latter. The same route would be "dangerous." They'd be waiting for them there. Whatever… He wanted out of this black and white hellhole. He didn't stop complaining until Poison told him to shut the fuck up.

"They blinded them…" Curly said. "They blinded the city, guys. They don't see all the terrible things that are going on because of how beautiful they think Better Living is making the world. It was perfect the way it was…"

Kobra looked at her as she grabbed onto Jet's arm. They hurried through the hallways and down flights of stairs in an unnervingly empty setting. They couldn't worry about that now. They just had to get out.

The kid was smart. Every day Kobra tried to make himself believe that she was a dumb kid, but it wasn't true. She'd figured out the evil truth behind Better Living Industries on her own. It amazed him in a way. She was fuckin' _smart._

"Perfection," he said. "is something you independently fight for; beauty is something society makes you believe, pulling a shroud over your eyes and making you blind."

"B-L-slash-I-N-D," Ghoul said, shocking himself a little.

"Better Living Industries," Jet said.

They walked into the main lobby, the sun rising through the large windows and warming their skin. They couldn't be surprised when those first few shots were fired behind them. How could BLI let them go without a fight?

Poison groaned, turning on his toes and pointing his gun. "Have a better fucking day."

And the lasers went everywhere.

* * *

The van barreled down the tunnel at a breakneck speed. The light of the slowly rising sun illuminated the end of the tunnel. That's where they were headed. "Hit the gas, Show Pony. We're already, late."

"You got it, Doc."

* * *

Curly covered her ears. Her eyes remained open. She couldn't look away, like watching a natural disaster tear apart a city. But her ears couldn't take the noise. The yelling, the lasers whizzing by their heads. It was all too much.

Nothing ever hit her. It was almost like they didn't want her. As though she wasn't a threat. The others, they dodged them back and forth, lasers barely missing their skin, but Curly didn't budge. Jet stayed by her side protectively for a while until it connected in his mind that they weren't after her. Standing at her side was putting her in more danger than leaving her alone. So, he went off, darting back and forth, catching Draculoids where he could.

Poison and Kobra stood back to back, shooting down anyone who approached. Poison's face remained its usual stony seriousness but, Kobra's was very intense. His usually-perfect hair was everywhere, almost blocking his vision, his mouth open as he yelled out in anger.

Ghoul was following Jet's lead, staying quick on his feet. He never stopped moving, even when it was obvious that he was growing tired.

When a Drac got too close, Poison found himself pushing it away, slamming them into a wall. His hand shot out and snatched off his mask. The Draculoid looked completely lost, a normal man under the rubber mask. The rays of the sun crashed down on his skin like a hail of bullets. Without the slightest warning, he fell to the floor, a lifeless body.

Curly was shocked. Of course… they were _vampires._ And Better Living or not, vampires couldn't survive in the sun. She looked at Poison, staring at the mask in his hand, stunned disbelieve on his face. He couldn't believe it worked.

* * *

He should have reacted quicker. There was no way it would have happened if he'd dropped that mask and started shooting again. Korse grabbed him by the collar, pushed him against the wall. Poison was faced once more with the man that he hated more than anyone.

Those maniacal eyes stared into his and he lifted a plain, white Better Living Industries brand ray gun up beside him.

Poison's eyes grew wide. Was this… It couldn't be. It wasn't supposed to end like this. The pigs weren't supposed to win. He could feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as his mind broke into a frenzy.

They weren't supposed to win…

He'd hoped for the best and expected this. He expected the worst and dropped the bomb. They were going to win.

The head took the gun and brought it up under his chin. He stared at him hard, for a very long time, and smiled. Then he pulled the trigger, and it was over.

* * *

Kobra could barely react to Curly's earsplitting scream. He'd taken down _Party Poison! _This couldn't be happening! He ran for the head, gun out and firing.

How could they miss? How could every shot be missing? How was that bastard averting every single one fired? Kobra was the best aim the Killjoys had! This wasn't happening. It couldn't be! It couldn't be…

But it was all too real.

The lasers collided with his body and he collapsed. He couldn't have it end like this. He had to hang on. He had to keep going. For Ghoul, for Jet, for the kid…

He had to keep going.

He had to keep…

* * *

No! Poison _and _Kobra? No! The tears came from her eyes quietly. She couldn't think. She couldn't believe she'd just witnessed it.

The fear she saw in Poison's face. That unreal fear that should never flash on his features like that.

The way Kobra struggled to make it…

Her heart was breaking…

Ghoul shoved her. "Go, Curly! Go!"

She looked at him, forcing her towards Jet.

They were losing.

Jet grabbed her arm and started for the door. They couldn't do it. Two killjoys and a useless kid up against all those Draculoids. It wasn't possible. They had to get out of there.

Jet pushed the door open and they sprinted out. Curly looked over her shoulder to check on Ghoul. He was closing the door.

"Ghoul!" Curly screamed, heading back.

"Save yourself," he said. "I'll hold them back."

* * *

Ghoul shut the door and turned around, his gun at the ready. He knew what he was doing. This was a sacrifice. They wouldn't make it with Ghoul. It was slim that they'd make it without him. No one was better for Curly than Jet. That's why he needed to survive.

So, it was time to do it now, do it loud, and give himself up for them. He had far less to live for.

His shots were no match for theirs, coming thick and fast, connecting with his body.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

It ended rather quickly. Painfully, but quickly.

He could rest now…

* * *

Jet took Curly's arm and pulled her away from the door. "But, Ghoul!" she called.

"We have to go, kid!" he exclaimed.

Curly nodded and followed behind him, moving as fast as her legs would take her to keep up with his long strides. They jumped over the stairs, dodging the array of lasers coming their way. They headed straight for the car, parked on the sidewalk.

Curly saw it before Jet did. The lasers connected with his back. He felt it and he winced. She saw the pain on his face, as hard as he tried to hold it back. He spun around to send retaliating shots through the agony apparent on his face.

There were too many. They were relentless, sending one after the other into his chest. He fell, back against the car, gun slipping slowly from his hands. It hit the ground and his hand went limp. It broke Curly into a million pieces.

It was over. They were gone. Fallen to Better Living Industries. She's lost two families to them now… She was alone again. The loneliness grabbed at her heart once more and squeezed tears from her eyes as she stood where she was, completely helpless. It didn't matter anymore. They could take her. They'd already taken her family. They'd already taken her smile.

Blinded by the tears in her eyes, she didn't even notice when the van drove up in front of her, or the fellow with the tights and the helmet jumped out firing.

"Come on in, motor baby," a familiar voice said. She wiped her eyes the best she could, looking at the man a few feet away from her. He leaned out the van, scruffy hair tied back by a bandana around his head, sitting in a wheelchair, locked in place in the back of the van. He leaned out the van and threw a cane to the ground. "We ain't got no time to waste."

Zone runners. They had to be. The colors and the van… It was ugly and perfect and nothing like anything in Battery City. She sprinted for them and the man pulled her into the car and it soon sped off.

Through the waking city, an announcement could be heard. "Hello, citizens of Battery City. This is Bob Fillmore here. We at Better Living Industries find it necessary to warn you of the minor threat at headquarters. Don't you worry, the threat has been averted. BLI wants you to be at your safest at all times. Please turn on your televisions now for Thought Adjustment. Have a happy November 22nd and have a better day. Goodbye."

November 22nd?

Curly burst into uncontrollable sobs. It was her birthday. She was ten years old.


End file.
